THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  GRASS  IN  THE  PAVEMENT. 


The  Grass  in  the  Pavement 

BY 

M.  E.  BUHLER 

"A  child   said,   What   is  the  grass?"    (Walt  Whitman). 


NEW    YORK 

JAMES    T.  WHITE  &  CO 

1918 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 

For  the  privilege  of  reprinting  the  following  verses, 
grateful  acknowledgment  is  made  to  the  New 
York  Sun,  New  York  Times,  Century,  Outlook, 
Bellman,  Churchman,  Catholic  World,  Ark,  Reedy's 
Mirror,  Pan  American  Magazine,  and  other  period 
icals. 


PS 


88  &>£>  <t 
<? 


CONTENTS 

THE    DREAMER 8 

THE  GRASS  IN  THE  PAVEMENT 9 

BUBBLES   10 

InOLATRY     II 

DUST    12 

A  LUNAR  RAINBOW  OVER  BROADWAY 13 

THE  SHATTERING  OF  THE  VESSELS    14 

THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  FOOLISH  15 

THE  INSCRUTABLE  GODS 16 

EARTHBOUND    17 

THE  TOWERS  OF  SILENCE 18 

A  MEXICAN  EXILE   19 

THE    WORSHIPPER 20 

THE    DEWDROP 21 

THE  BUILDERS  22 

INVICTUS   23 

THE    UNBELIEVERS    24 

THE   SYMPHONY    25 

THE  WORKERS    26 

THE  PURPOSE    27 

MAKER  OF  MEN 28 

THE   MEDIATORS    29 

THE  CALL  OF  THE  SIRE 30 

THE   SONG  MAKERS 31 


THE    SPONGES    32 

THE  JUDGMENT  OF  THE  DEAD 33 

INVOCATION    34 

THE  ARTIST  35 

A  TWENTIETH   CENTURY  PRAYER 36 

THE   DELUGE    37 

COLORS  IN  THE  DARK 38 

CLOUD  PICTURES   39 

THE  STONE  THAT  THE  BUILDERS  REJECTED   40 

THE   AUTUMN    STAR 41 

DREAM    42 

CURRENCY 43 

DIAMONDS  44 

THE  WINGED  GLOBE 45 

THE   ROAD   TO   YESTERDAY 46 

ORION    47 

THE  ROAD  OF  THE  RETURNER _ . .  48 

GIVE    49 

FROM  THE  EAST 50 

INEFFACEABLE 51 

REMEMBRANCE   52 

SAHARA   53 

ALL  AWRY  53 

To  THE  MUMMY  OF  A  KING  WHO  WAS  SLAIN 54 

THE   FADELESS  VISION 55 

THOTHMES  THE  THIRD  56 

THE  SOWER  OF  LIFE 58 

EARTH    Music    59 


THE  BIG  TREES  OF  CALIFORNIA 60 

AT  AMIENS   61 

IMMANUEL    62 

THE   GIFT 63 

LOYALTY   64 

DROPPING  THE  BURDEN 65 

FORWARD  66 

RAINY  DAY  IN  THE  PARK 67 

To  AN  IDLER 67 

THE  NOON  HOUR  AT  ST.  PAUL'S 68 

A  POET  PASSES 69 

JOHN-A-DREAMS  70 

THE  ALGAE  IN  BRONX  PARK 71 

THE  VANISHED  EARTH  GODS 72 

THE    SHADOW    _ 73 

IN  CITY  HALL  PARK 74 

THE   DARK    75 

THE   WRECKER   OF  THE   HOSPITAL 76 

AT  HALF  MAST 77 

AT  A  WEST  INDIAN  OBSERVATORY 78 

THE   MELTING   POT 79 

ON  THE  FACE  OF  THE  WATERS 80 

A   FROSTED   WINDOW 81 

SHAKESPEARE  IN  THE  SPRING 82 

A  CRIMSON  FEATHER  DUSTER 82 

THE  SHAKESPEARE  GARDEN  IN  CENTRAL  PARK 83 

AT  NIGHT  FALL 84 

THE  SINGING  ICE  IN  THE  PARK 85 


THE  SCOURGE  OF  GOD 86 

AFTER  SUNSET  ON  THE  HUDSON 87 

THE  BIRDS  OF  BRYANT  PARK 88 

AN  INCIDENT  IN  FLANDERS  89 

IN  A  VACANT  Lor 90 

A  CRY  IN  THE  NIGHT 91 

MAMMY    92 

To  AN  ANCIENT  SLEEPER 93 

MEDUSAE  94 

WOODLAWN 95 

FROM  THE  TALMUD 96 

FAITH    97 

THE  WATCHER  AT  THE  GATES   98 

AT  THE  WINTER    SOLSTICE    99 

ON  THE  HOUSETOP 100 

A  PEARL  OF  THE  FAITH 101 

EVENING  AT   CAMP  MILLS 102 

OLD  YOUTH   , .  103 

HORSES    104 

THE  UNEXPECTED   105 

THE  LOST   SEAL 106 

THE  ARCHETYPE   107 

AT  A  MENAGERIE   108 

FROM   THE   DARK 109 

GUNDA'S  PRAYER  no 

A  WEST  INDIAN   SABBATH 1 1 1 

AT  THE  TURN  OF  THE  YEAR.  .                                   ...  112 


THE  GRASS  IN  THE  PAVEMENT. 


THE  DREAMER. 

PlCORN  not  the  dreamer,  ye  who  strive 

In  busy  marts  the  goal  to  win; 
By  other  ways  shall  he  arrive, 
And  other  gates  shall  enter  in. 

In  touch  with   nature's   mysteries, 
His  is  the  heart  that  understands ; 

To  paint  the  picture  that  he  sees 
His  are  the  artist's  skillful  hands. 

Like  that  far  dreamer  of  Judaea, 

Who,  true  of  heart  and  wise  of  brain, 

Was  made  Egyptian  Pharaoh's     seer 
And  saved  the  King's  domain. 

Up  from  the  River  crept  the  lean, 
Long  years  across  the  desert  sand; 

Behold,  the  Dreamer  rose  serene 
And  fed  the  famished  land! 

So  to  the  Seer  the  power  is  given, 
And  time  fulfills  the  vision  dim; 

The  Sun  and  Moon  and  Stars  eleven 
Bow  down  and  worship  him! 


THE  GRASS  IN  THE  PAVEMENT. 

"God,"  cried  the  grass  in  the  pavement, 
"Am  I  not  worthy  of  living, 
Who  am  green  in  the  waterless  places 
And  subsist  in  the  clefts  of  the  stone? 

"Where  the  feet  of  the  horses  trample 
And  wheels  go  passing  and  passing, 
By  strong  desire  of  living 
I  live,  but  am  barren  and  lone! 

"Give  me  the   fields  of  my  birthright, 
The  shade  of  the  quiet  cool  places; 
There  may  I  live  to  Thine  honor, 
Abundant,  rejoicing,  full  grown!" 

"Child,"  came  the  Voice  in  the  stillness, 
"Know  I  not  well  thou  art  worthy, 
Thou  who  declarest  my  glory 
Where  dearth  and  destruction  are  rife? 

"Therefore  have  I  set  thee  in  lonely 
And  parched   and   desolate  places: 
Are  the  weakest  and  least  of  the  legions 
Placed   in   the  van   of  the   strife? 

"Know  I  not  well  thou  art  worthy? 
I   have   chosen   thee  over  all  others, 
Thou  who  art  potent,  unyielding, 
And  strong  in  the  fullness  of  life!" 


BUBBLES. 

SHATTERED  in  the  primal 
Warfare  in  the  heavens, 
Lo,   the  holy  spirit 
In    mankind    incarnate, 
Lives  in  myriad  fragments! 

Prisoned,   bound,  and   hapless 
In   discordant  bodies, 
Evermore    it    seeketh 
Union,  as  the  rivers 
Seek    again    the    ocean. 

So  in  homes  and  cities 
Drawn  by  strong  attraction 
Men    foregather,   blindly 
Seeking    one    another, 
In   pathetic   discord. 

For  the  flesh  dissevers 
And  the  body  prisons; 
Yet    the    spirit    striveth, 
Bound,  though  never  yielding, 
Drawing  men  together; 

Till  the  carnal  housings 
Weaker  grow  and   finer, 
With    the    strain   of   living 
And  the  stress  of  being; 
And  like  long  blown  bubbles, 


10 


Gorgeous,  many  colored, 
Flashing  with   a  radiance 
Delicate,   ethereal, 
In  a  mist  of  glory 
Burst  at  last  asunder. 

So  the  prisoned  spirit 
Quit  of  life  and  living, 
Mingles  with  the  ether. 
With    all    other   spirit, 
And  is  one  forever! 

161-2 

IDOLATRY. 

MY   spirit  flies   from   star  to  star 
In   search   of  thee,  my  all  in  all. 
From  star  to  star  the  shadows  fall 
And   lie    before    me    like    a   bar 
Of  darkness  thrown  by  light  afar 

Beyond  the  spheres  where  thou  must  be; 
And  turning  thither,  seeking  thee, 
I  find  again  the  shadows  are. 

So  deep  the  shade,  so  dark  the  spheres — 

So  darker,  darker,  one  by  one, 
As  on  I  pass,  each  star  appears — 

I  know  beyond  the  utmost  sun, 
Sun-shadowed,  on  my  yearning  sight 
Thyself  shall  burst  in  dazzling  light! 

ll 


THE   DUST. 

I  AM  the  dust,  and  I  creep  and  crawl 
In  at  the  window  and  over  the  wall; 
Over  the  pictures  and  over  the  books, 
And  gather  to  rest  in  the  unswept  nooks. 

I  am  a  part  of  all  that  has  been, 
Living  or  dead  the  world  within; 
Dissolved  by  time  and  freed  by  rust 
To  a  million  million  fragments  of  dust. 

Dust  of  the  monarch  and  dust  of  his  crown; 
Dust  of  the  cap  and  bells,  and  the  clown; 
Dust  of  the  warrior  and  dust  of  his  sword; 
And  dust  of  all  of  the  hosts  of  the  Lord. 

Dust  of  the  slayer  and  dust  of  the  slain, 
Dissolved  in  the  whirling  void  again; 
Dust  of  the  women  who  gave  them  birth; 
And  dust  of  all  living  and  dead  of  the  earth. 

Out    in    the    farthest    atmosphere 

I  float  and  drift  as  I  drift  in  here; 

Shining  in  rays  of  the  uttermost  stars 

As  I  shine  in  the  beams  of  the  casement  bars. 


12 


A  LUNAR  RAINBOW  OVER  BROADWAY. 

I    the  old  dead  moon, 
,     White   in   the   sun 
Back  of  the  drifting  clouds, 

Look  down  upon 
You   and   your   teeming  life, 

0  Babylon! 

Jewelled  in  red  and  gold 

Night  after  night, 
Wheels   your   kaleidoscope 

Of  broken   light, 
Color  of   strife   begot, 

Peace   being  white. 

So  on  these   circling  mists 

Strange   colors   glow, 
That    speak    of    storm    and    stress 

Long,   long   ago, 
In    the    forgotten    life 

1  used   to   know. 


13 


THE   SHATTERING   OF   THE   VESSELS. 

IN  the  Hall  of  the    Great    Vases   a   rushing   Wind 
went  by, 

And    there    fell    to    the    earth    a    vessel, 
Shattered  in  fragments. 

Many-shaped,  many-colored  were   the   pieces, 
According  to   the   pattern   of  the   vessel; 
Some   large,  and   some    small, 
But  most  of  them  as  the   dust   of  the   pavement. 

And   men   passing,    said: 

"Behold,   the   flocking  of  the   birds!" 

For   there   flew   out   across   the    \vorld 

Great  and  small  birds. 

And  they  that  were  as  insects  in   Brazilian   forests. 

And  again   I  beheld  in  the  Hall  of  the  Great  Vases 

That  a  mighty  Wind  swept  by; 

And  there  was  blown  to  the  earth  an  innumerable 

multitude  of  vessels, 

Whose  fragments,  large  and  infinitely   small, 
Were  as  the  motes  in  the  Sunbeam, 
Or    the    Zodiacal    Light    gathered    about    the    Sun. 

And  behold,  in  all  places   of   the   earth, 
The  flocking  of  the  birds! 


14 


Their   songs   filled   the    silences   of  great   conflict, 
And  in  the  darkness  of  the  nights  was  heard 
The  impalpable,  soft  beating  of  their  wings. 

The  forest  leaves  rustled  with  their  flitting, 
The  long  grasses  of  the  plains  with  their  motion, 
And   over  the   waters  the   seagulls  stooped  to  their 
prey. 

From  solitary  high  places  the  eagles  sought  the  sun; 
And  in  the  streets  of  the  cities  men  paused  in  their 

hurrying, 

Stepping  carefully, 
Lest  they  trample  upon  little  wings. 


THE  WISDOM   OF  THE  FOOLISH. 

AS   falsely   a   fond   mother  promises 
Her  pleading  child  the  thing  for  which  he  frets, 
Knowing   the    while    it    never   can    be   his. 

Yet   soothing  with  vain   hope  till  he  forgets; 

So   nature   leads   us  an   appointed  way 

With   promise   of   the   things   our  hearts   implore, 

Until  by   false   hope  drawn,  at   close   of  day 
We   have   forgotten,   and   desire   no   more. 


15 


THE  INSCRUTABLE  GODS. 

THEY  make  the  fire  to  burn, 
Yet  keep  the  green  wood  wet; 
And  urging  life  to  understand 
They  let  it  still  forget. 

For  when  we   seek  to  learn, 

They  baffle  and  abet, 
And  make  youth  slow  to  understand 

But  slow,   slow,  to  forget; 

And  when  the  long  tides  turn, 

They  urge  and  hinder  yet; 
For  age,  grown  quick  to  understand, 

Is  quick,  quick,   to   forget. 

O   strange   gods,   kind   and   stern, 

That  build  and  then  upset, 
What  would  you?     Lest  we  understand 

Too  much,  must  we  forget? 

Or,   seeing  all   fuels  burn 

To  ashes,  must  we  let 
The    soul    flame    on    to    understand. 

But  what  it  burns  forget? 


1G 


EARTHBOUND. 

MANY  fathoms  deep  I  lie 
Under  Water,  Earth  and  Sky; 
I,  the  firstborn,  primal  Fire, 
Buried  deep  by  deep  desire! 
God,  who  called  me  from  the  void, 
Shall  I  thus  be  self-destroyed? 
Let  me  go  back  whence  I  came, 
One  with  elemental  flame! 
Prisoned  in  these  earthly  walls, 
Blinded,  bound,  my  spirit  calls. 
What  need   I   of  mortal   life, 
All  my  soul  with  being  rife? 

What  remains  for  me  to  learn, 
Who  lit  Thy  blazing  suns  to  burn? 
What  remains  for  me  to  know, 
Who  set  Thy  circling  tides  to  flow? 
Is  there  aught  for  me  to  find 
Who  loosened  Thine  ethereal  wind? 
Need  have  I  for  mortal  birth, 
Who  helped  to  swing  Thy  rounded  earth? 
Back  of  all  the  kalpas  I 
Knew  the  Wherefore  and  the  Why. 
God,  who  wrought  me  of  desire! 
God,   who    shaped   my    soul    of   fire! 
I,  the  firstborn,  wild  and   free, 
First  of  all  to  answer  Thee, 
Why  should  I  thus  prisoned  be? 
17 


THE  TOWERS  OF  SILENCE. 

IN  the  ancient  city's  shade 
Roofless  towers  of  granite  rise, 
Where  the  Parsee  dead  are  laid 
Uninterred  beneath  the  skies. 

Central  in  the   circling  walls 
Lies  a  well,  whose  waters  deep 

Catch  the  sunshine  as  it  falls 
On  the  silence  of  long  sleep; 

Catch  the  brooding  radiance  cast 
By   the    stars'    supernal    light, 

And  the  planets  wheeling  past 
In  the  swiftly  turning  night; 

Catch  the  first  long  lingering  ray 
Out  across  the  darkness  whirled 

By  the  white  dawn,  as  the  day 
Wakes  again  the  living  world. 

Yet  shall  not  the  vanished  thought 
To  its  temple  come  again; 

Nor  the  crumbling  bones  be  wrought 
Into  what  had  once  been  men. 


18 


A    MEXICAN    EXILE. 

AMID  the  ruins  of  his  ancient  people 
In    the    Museum    waits    Xochipilli, 
Lord  of  the  Flowers — with  bud  and  blossom  graven 
From  brow  to  naked  knee. 

With   sunken   eyes  whose   sad,   far-seeing  glances 
Sweep  through  the  casements  open  to  the  sky, 

He  sees,  beyond  a  waste  of  restless  waters, 
An  old  world  buried  lie. 

His  spirit  yearneth  for  the  vanished  nation, 
Through   all  the   desolate,   slow-creeping  hours, 

That  sought  strange  gods  with  sacrifice  unholy 
But  unto  him  brought  flowers. 

Methinks   the   Lord   Xochipilli   beholdeth 
A  flowery  land  set  deep  in  tropic  seas; 

And  murmurously  amidst  the  languorous  sweetness 
He  hears  the  droning  bees. 

For  where  he  broods  high  up  amid  the  ruins 

There    wafts    an    incense    as    from    Maya    skies — 

Strange  hands  have  laid  wild  blossoms  on  his  altar 
In  ancient  sacrifice! 


19 


THE    WORSHIPPER. 

EVER   have    I    been    a    worshipper 
Of  all  the  changing  gods. 

Strange  beings  in  the  twilight  have  I  honored, 
Whose  remembrance  has  vanished  from  the  earth. 

To  Ra  have   I  given  glory  in  the   sunlight, 
And   praised   him   in   the    waters   of   the    Nile. 
On  the  peaks  and  in   the  deep   caverns   of  As*a 
I  have  bowed  before  the  Dragon  of  the  Sun, 
And  Siva  sitting  in  darkness. 

Yea,  when  the  waters  lay  deep  upon  the  continents 

I  worshipped  Ea  in   Eridu; 

And  with  the  sunrise  kneeled  to  Shamash  in  Sippara. 

To  Oannes,  rising  amid  the  islands  of  the  sea, 

Have  I  made  obeisance; 

And  bowed  down  before  Baal  in  Babylon. 

Before  Assur  have   I  borne  fire  and  water; 
And  lifted  the   Serpent  in  the  wilderness, 
Following   Jehovah. 

By  winding  rivers  and  by  inland  seas  of  the  Kassites 
Have   I  adored  their  strange   gods; 
And  have  come  up  out  of  long  darkness  singing  of 
Pharamond. 

I  have  heaped  the  red  fires  of  Moloch  in  the  forests, 
And  razed  them  for  the  shrines  of  the  White  Christ. 
Yea,  I  have  chanted  with  the  abbots  in  Appenzell. 

20 


In  Britain  and  in  Staffa  have  I  builded  sanctuaries; 
And  have  vanished  with  the  Druids  of  Stonehenge 
And  their  beacon  lights  upon  the  Celtic  hills. 

Amid  far  waters  I  planted  the  True  Cross  beneath 

the  palm  trees; 

And  held  the  crucifix  to  the  lips  of  Montezuma; 
By  the  long  waves  on  a  frozen  shore 
I  sought  the  liberty  of  God,  singing  His  mercies. 
And   now   in    these   last    days, 
Behold,  I  fling  His  banner  to  the  stars, 
Giving  glory   unto   the    Highest, 
World  without  end! 


THE  DEWDROP. 

THE  cycle  of  the  dewdrop  and  the  cycle  of  the 
sea, 
The   smallest  and  the   greatest,  'tis  a  question 

of  degree. 
'Tis    the    same    within    the    ocean    and    the    drop    of 

water    small; 
And  the  dweller  in  the  dewdrop  has  felt  and  known 

it    all- 
Yea,    I,   within    my   dewdrop,    have    felt    and   known 
it   all  ! 


THE    BUILDERS. 

"T?ACH    man's    life 

•1—'  The  outcome  of  his  former  living  is." 
So  taught   the   nation   by  the   summer   seas, 
Its  mystic  life  philosophy  a  woof 
Of  breath   of   God   and   creeping  things   of  earth, 
Of  dust   and   dross   and   gleaming  threads   of   gold. 

The  Brahmin,  musing  with  his  eyes  downcast 

Upon  the  marvel  of  the  many  lives, 

Saw  in  the  crystal  of  the  sunlit  stream, 

Topaz  and  amethyst  and  lazuli, 

The   shimmering  fishes   gliding  to  and   fro, 

And   cried,    "Behold,    in    lowly    forms    like    these 
Hath   dwelt   this  human   soul,  ascending  throuph 
Strange  shapes  of  bird  and  beast,  each  leaving  trace, 
While  turns  the  ceaseless  wheel.     Lo,  each  man's  life 
The  outcome  of  his  former  living  is!" 

Well  hast  thou  seen,   O   seeker  of  the  truth, 
Well  hast  thou  said,  O  seer  of  things  that  are! 
From  shape  to  shape  through  changes  manifold 
Our   endless   lives   roll   on    in   linked    chains 
Of  deed  and   sequence,   evil  wrought  and  good; 
And  what  we  shall  be  doth  not  yet  appear. 

The  deeds  we  wrought  in  all  the  vanished  years; 
The  thoughts  we  harbored  as  the  moments  sped; 
Things  seen  and  heard  and  wondered  at  and  felt; 

22 


Yea.  all  the  life  we  lived  from  day  to  day, 
Have  fashioned  us  as  we  behold  ourselves. 

And  still  we  grow  and  change,  and  build  again 
New  lives  from  embers  of  forgotten  days 
That  passing  come  no  more;  and  each  man's  life 
The  outcome  of  his  former  living  is. 

INVICTUS. 

WHO  sang  "Invictus"  loud  and  long — and  fell — 
Doubt  not  thou  sangest  well! 

For  there  are  those  who  had  not  known  that  song 
But  for  thy  chanted  word, 
Which  they,  despairing,  heard 
And    rose    and    triumphed;    passing    it    along 
Wave   after  wave  in   ever-widening  arc, 
Until   the    far   reverberance    of   the    strain 
Comes   back   to   thee   again 
Across  the  world;  and  mark, 
O   thou   of   mighty  will, 
Unconquered    and    unconquerable    still, 
Above    the    flesh    that    fails 
The    spirit    still    prevails, 

And    'tis    thine     own    first    song    that    lifteth     thee 
To   final  victory! 
Early    or    late 
Thou   rulest   still    thy   fate, 
Despite  all  winds  or  tides  through  all  eternity. 

23 


THE   UNBELIEVERS. 

ONCE,   in   an   age   of   magic,   lived   a   man 
Who  blew  a  bubble  of  his  glowing  breath, 
And  dwelt  therein. 
And  when  the  walls  were  thin 
And  straining  as  with  coming  death, 
And  lights  unutterable  whirled  and  ran 
In  flashing  colors  round  the  little  span 

Of   prisoned    breath,    from    out    his    shining   cloud 
He  called  to  men  aloud 

To  share  with  him  the  radiance  he  had  caught 
Circling  about  his  thought. 

So  frail  a  thing — a  bubble — from  without, 

That  holds  all  life  within! 
An  alien  touch,  a  carping  word,  a  doubt, 

And  all  the  crystalline 

Bright   lights   that  whirl   and   spin 
About    the    central    sun    fire    have    gone    out! 

So  strange  is  human  life, 

That  holds  each  body  central  in  a  sphere 
Invisible,  yet  rife 

With  every  passion,  prejudice  and  fear 
That  in  the  heart  may  be! 

Long  before  men  draw  near 

Their    subtle    atmosphere 

Prepares   the   way   for    them,   and    rules    what    they 
shall  see. 

24 


And  so  the  unseeing  crowd 
Slew,  as  they  came,  the  bubble;  laughing  loud 
At  what  themselves  had  made  vacuity! 


THE  SYMPHONY. 

GOD,  musing,   made   the   law,    His   instrument, 
And  set  the  wheels  in  motion  with  His  word; 
And  law  evolves  the  changing  universe, 
Self-moving,   self-adjusting,   self-sustained. 

Law  swerves  not  in  its  action,  varying  not 
One  jot  nor  one  iota  in  its  course; 
It  sets  the  whirling  atoms  in  the  deeps, 
Fashioned   upon  the   pattern   of  the   suns, 
And   sows   the   empyrean   with   circling   stars. 

From  unplumbed  systems  in  the  atom's  depths 
One  method  and  one  purpose  govern  all, 
To  that  immeasurable  and  ultimate   Star 
Which  is  the  sum  of  all  the  ordered  spheres 
That  move  in  music  round  the  Throne  of  God. 

Wheel  within  wheel  revolving  ceaselessly 

The   mighty   system  followeth   the   law, 

In  one  divine,  unbroken  harmony; 

One,  in  the   atom's  boundless  depths  revealed; 

One,  in  the  framework  of  this  earthly  form; 

One,  in   the    Star  of   Heaven   immeasurable! 

25 


THE  WORKERS. 

r  I  ^HE  palace  doors  are  closed  upon  the  Mount, 

-*-     For  none  may  view  the  King  who  rules  suoreme 
In  wisdom,  justice,  mercy,  and  in  power; 
Designing  and  directing  from  his  throne, 
He  wields  unseen  his  sceptre  over  all. 

Far,    far    below    the    summit    of   the    Mount 
The    workers    go   their   darkened    way   alone; 
Ten   thousand   times   ten   thousand   toiling  lives 
In  one  great  image  made  and  glorified, 
And   shaped  to  working  as   the   Master  works. 

And   instruments   of  marvelous  design 
Are  ready  waiting  for  the  eager  hands 
Whereto    they    are    adapted;    yet    few    find, 
Groping  in   darkness   of  the   twilight  world, 
The  instrument  for  which  their  hands  were  made. 

So  to  the  carpenter  there  falls  a  sword; 
Unto  the  warrior  a  scrivener's  reed; 
To   him  born   tiller   of   the    soil   a   loom. 
Unto  the  poet  is  a  plowshare   given, 
And  to  the  brute  dominion  and  a  throne. 

But  since  a  gleam  of  far  celestial  light 
Breaks   through    some    crevice    in    the   palace   doors, 
The    workers    with    their    misfit    instruments 
And   alien    tasks   accomplish   yet   some   work, 
Slowly   and   surely, — to   their   endless   praise. 

26 


Yet  some,  grown  bitter  with  their  wasted  strength, 
Seeing  the  mighty  things  they  could  have  wrought 
Had  there  been  no  confusion  of  the  tools, 
Cry,  "Who  is  this  who  sits  enthroned  in  light. 
Foiling  his   workers  and   his  instruments?" 


THE    PURPOSE. 

THEN  spake  One  from  His  throne  invisible 
Beyond  the  lightnings  in  the  steadfast  light: 
"Lo,  who  art  thou,  that  I  should  mindful  be 
Of  thee,  or  any  deed  thou  mayst  perform? 
Need  I  thy  help?     Or  in  thy  Babylon 
Soars   any  tower   too   near  unto   My   throne? 

"Behold,  I  AM,  and  all  that  shall  be,  was! 
All  thou  wouldst  make  already  hath  been  wrought, 
All   thou   wouldst   do   already   hath   been    done. 
Know  thou,  O  Man,  My  well  beloved  son, 
Who  wast  with   Me   when   sang  the   morning  stars 
And  the  foundations  of  the  world  were  laid, 
Not  as  a  builder  have  I  sent  thee  forth, 
Nor  as   a  laborer  with   implements, 
But  as  the  king's  son  goes  to  win  his  sword; 
Achievement  worthless  but  for  battle  fought 
And  for  the  strength  of  obstacles  o'ercome. 

"Lo!  I  have  sent  thee  forth  to  overcome! 
From  every   evil   wresting  victor}', 

27 


From  every  conquest  greater  in  thy  might. 

Up  from  the  slimy  ooze  by  slow  ascent, 

Through  all  the  cycles  of  the  countless  years, 

Thy  vast   dominion  widens   to   the   end, 

Yea,  that  far  end  when,  conquering  death  and  hell, 

I  set  thee  at  My  right  hand  on  the  throne 

In   judgment  o'er   the   world   that   I   have   made!" 

"MAKER   OF   MEN" 

THE   Kindler   of  the   Fire- 
Doth   He  not  know? 
He  lights  the  pure  flame;  higher,  ever  higher, 

See,  it  will  go! 

He  smiles — it  is  enough;  and  in  the  mire 
All  unrefreshed  He  leaves  it  to  expire; 
Its  worth  is  proved;  'tis  all  He  doth  desire! 
It  hath  no  need  to  grow; 
Doth   He  not  know? 

He   lights  the  sullen   spark 

And  breathes  it  to  a  glow; 
He  feeds  it  chaff  and  lightly  kindling  bark, 

And  makes  it  grow 

Slowly,  yea,  inch  by  inch,  until  the  dark 
About  its  soul  is  lighted;  He  will  mark 
How  it  doth   flicker,   flare;   His   laughter   hark! 

What  care  is  needed,  lo, 

Doth   He  not  know? 

28 


THE  MEDIATORS. 

THOUGH  He  hath  bidden  to  prayer  in  His  word, 
So  often  had  I  prayed  and  He  not  heard, 
Being  inscrutable  and  far  away, 

And  hidden  by  flaming  swords  from  such  as  pray! 
And  the  great  saints  who  touch  His  garment's  hem, 
Surely  earth's  myriad  prayers  o'erburden  them. 

So  then  I  thought  (perchance  the  thought  were  His, 

And  this  but  one  of  many  mysteries), 

Being  beset   with   sharp   and   bitter   need, 

I  will  invoke  mine  own  to  intercede. 

These  I  can  reach;  and,  clothed  in  fire  like  Him, 

They   may   pass   through    the   ranks    of   seraphim. 

Then  called   I,  soul  to   soul,  all   those  to  me 

Bound  by   strong  chains   of  love   and   sympathy 

And   ties   of  kin   that  may   not  be   denied. 

The  long,   long  dead   came   swiftly   to   my   side 

Across  the  gulf  of  the  departed  years, 

And  those   for  whom  mine  eyes  wept  bitter   tears. 

And   from  the   knightly  and   the   royal   past 
Far  shadowy  kinsmen  gathered  round  me  fast; 
Yea,  those  of  mine  who  had  been  strong  to  save. 
All  came  at  call  across  the  deathless   grave 
In    shapes    of   light,    and    bore    beseeching   word 
Up    past    God's    flaming    footstool,    and    He    heard! 


29 


THE   CALL   OF  THE  SIRE. 

LO!   one   arose,   breaking  earth's   bondage — 
The    law    of    the    little    children 
That  held  him  safe  to  her  bosom — 
And   soared  beyond  her  dominion 
In  search  of  his  father,  the  sun. 

But  the  great  winds  that  follow  earth's  footsteps — 
The    devils    that    trail    her    in    fleeing — 
Shrieking    and    howling    and    hurling, 
Reached   from  the   outermost  darkness 
Their  long  arms  to  his  undoing. 

They  deafened  him  with  their  roarings; 

They  blinded  him  with  their  blackness; 

They   rended   him  with   their   clutches; 

And  tossed  him  and  whirled  him  and  wheeled  him, 

And  tore  him  apart  and  asunder. 

So,  cast  in  Osirian  fragments 

Over  the  wind  blown  spaces, 

As   meteors   fall   through   the   darkness 

His  members   fall,   never  reaching; 

But  are  caught  back  into  the  currents, 

And   are  whirled   in   the   vortex   forever. 

So  I  lay  me  down  with  my  mother, 
Safe  in  the  arms  of  her  keeping, 
Wrapped  in   the  robes  that  enfold  her — 


30 


The  crystalline   robes  of  her  being; 
And  fanned  by  her  gentle  zephyrs 
Would  sleep  on  her  breast  evermore. 

But  there  is  no  rest  in  my  slumber 

Because  of  a  voice  that  is  calling: 

"Rise,  thou,  and  seek  the  adventure! 

Perchance,    though    dismembered    and    shattered, 

Some  fragment  tossed  out  by  the  tempest 

Shall  catch  at  the  hands  of  the  sun!" 

THE   SONG  MAKERS. 

SINGERS   of  earth,  whose   only   gift   is   song, 
Sing  when  the  night  is  dark  and  over-long, 
And  by  your  music  you  shall  make  men  strong! 

Though    wastes    and    solitudes    encompass    you. 
Sing  of  brave   deeds  that  keep   the   true   men   true, 
And   of  the  laurel   much   shall   be   your   due! 

The  fires  of  God  are  nurtured  in  the  dark 
And    blown    to    flame    from    that   undying    spark 
That  feeds  the  lyric  of  the  unseen  lark. 

Sing — as  at  dawn  amid  Jamaican  hills 

Over   far   seas,   the    solitaire's   sweet   trills 

Break  forth,  and  earth  with  flute-like  music  thrills; 

And  even  the  great  stars  in  the   stooping  skies 
Burn  with  a  whiter  splendor;  while  arise 
From   mist-filled  valleys   notes   of  Paradise. 

31 


THE    SPONGES. 

THESE  are  the   Children  of  Ocean,  the  least  of 
the   great   Sea   People, 
Born  in  her  strange  wild  currents  and  rocked  in 

her  surging  tides, 
Clinging  to  reef  and  coral  and  shaped  to  the  form 

of  their  moorings; 

Blind  in  the  dim  green  waters,  they  hide  where  the 
mollusk  hides. 

Born  of  the  Mother  of  all,  with  aeons  of  time  yet 

before  them, 
Naught  they  know  of  the  sunlight — asleep  'neath 

her  storms  and  calms; 
Soothed  in  the  long,  blind  ages  by  the  croon  of  her 

wistful  murmurs, 

And   shaped   by   her   voice   as   the   air    shapes    the 
fronds    of    the    wind-blown    palms. 

Who  shall  determine,  O  Man!  the  goal  of  thine  in 
finite   reaching, 
Up    from   the   lowest    deeps    where    the    uttermost 

life  hath  birth? 
Of  fish  and  reptile  and  bird,  of  roaming  Lord  of  the 

Forest— 

Rememberest  aught  in  thy  dreaming,  O  full-grown 
Child  of  the  Earth? 


32 


THE  JUDGMENT  OF  THE   DEAD. 

THE  dead  man  stood  before  the  shadowy  throne 
Wherefrom  the  judgment  of  the  dead  is  given, 
And  waited  sentence  calmly,  unafraid, 
Guiltless   of  evil   deed   in   earthly  life. 
When  lo!  from  out  the  judgment  book  was  read 
The  doom  of  him  who  wasted,  robbed,  and  slew! 

"Nay,    Lord,"   cried    he    bewildered,    "when    did    I 

These  evil  things  whereof  I  am  accused? 

Sore,  sore  have   I  been  tempted,  but  withstood. 

From  spoliation   I  withheld  my  hand, 

And  slew  not,  though  my  heart  was  hot  with  hate. 

Riches  have  passed,  and  all  that  men  desire 

I  have  put  from  me  for  a  blameless  life; 

And   empty   hands   and   broken    heart   attest 

That  I  have  passed  through  life  without  its  gains." 

Then  spake  in  sorrow  He  who  rules  the  dead: 

"The  spirit  judge  I;  not  the  flesh  of  man 

Which  is  subservient  to  the  lord  of  life 

And  of  the  earth,   in  whom  I   have   no  part. 

Lo!  to  the  spirit  what  is  its  desire 

It  makes  thereby  its  own!     Wherefore  I  say, 

Thou,  who  hast  had   so  much  in  thy  desire, 

And  in  desire  hast  done  so  many  ills, 

Work  out  the  punishment  I  mete  to  thee 

So  that  these  things  shall  tempt  thee  not  again." 


33 


INVOCATION. 

THEN    cried    I,    "Lord,   Thou    Who   hast    bidden 
me  pray, 

These  many  years  have  I  by  night  and  day 
Petitioned   Thee,   and   yet  no   answer  known! 
Art  deaf  or  powerless  on  Thy  distant  throne?" 

Then  spake  a  low  voice  present  in  mine  ear: 
"Sayst   that   thou   dost  pray  and   I   not   hear, 
I,  Who  am  nearer  than  thy  hand  is  near? 
O   thou,  vociferous  by   night  and   day, 
Art  sure   thou  knowest  what  it  is  to  pray? 

"I  heed  not  windy  words  nor  foolish  tears, 
And  though  thou  seekest  thus  a  thousand  years, 
A  thousand  years  thou  shalt  unanswered  be; 
And  yet  I  say,  pray  thou,  and  ceaselessly, 
And  what  thou  prayest  shall  be  given  to  thee! 

"Behold,  I  show  thee  a  great  mystery, 
Who    looking   in    thy    soul    shall    there    find    Me; 
Desire — with   passion   deeper   than   the   sea; 
Believe — that   I,  thy  God,  will  uphold  thee; 
And  in   My  name   command — and  it  shall  be! 

"It  shall  be  thine  to  set  the  captive  free; 

And  thine  to  cast  the  mountain  in  the  sea; 

And   thine    to    wreak    slow    vengeance    day    by    day 

Upon  earth's  mightiest,  till,  forlorn  and  gray, 

On  desolate  thrones  all  hope  is  washed  away! 

34 


"The  sword  is  thine,  and  thine  the  healing  touch, 
O  thou  of  strong  desire,  believing  much! 
And  yet,  lest  judgment  on  thine  own  head  fall, 
Watch  well  thy  prayer,  for  lo,  I  answer  all!" 


THE   ARTIST. 

AS  'mid  far  mountains  lies  some  inland  sea, 
Within  whose  depths  their  mirrored  peaks  are 

shown, 

So  still  and  clear  the  artist's  soul  must  be 
Amid  the  summits  where  it  dwells  alone. 

The  gentlest  zephyr  frets  the  mirroring  wave, 
The  lightest  discord  mars  the  picture's  worth. 

Forlorn    his    being    whom    the    vision    drave 
To    be    the    loneliest    creature    upon    earth! 


35 


A    TWENTIETH    CENTURY    PRAYER. 

LO!  Thou  hast  made  Thy  flaming  suns 
And   set  them  circling  free  in  space; 
And  Thou  hast  made  those  darker  ones 

Outcast   forever   from  Thy   face, 
Those  wandering  stars  with   quenched   spark, 
Lost  in  the  blackness  of  the  dark. 

O  Maker  of  each  undimmed  sun 
In   sole   dominion    o'er   its   spheres 

That  in   their   rounded   orbits   run 
Serenely  through  the  perfect  years, 

Look  down  in  pity  on  our  world 

About   two   centres   madly   whirled. 

Our  world  with  pathway  all  amiss, 

Misshapen  by  the  central  strife 
Between  the  lords  of  woe  and  bliss, 

Of  dark  and  light,  of  death  and  life. 
Help  us,  in  these  our  latter  days, 
To  search  this  darkness  and  its  ways, 

To  find  the  pivot  of  the  night; 

And   heal  earth's   guidance,   rent   in   twain, 
That  brings  into  a  world  of  light 

Death  and  the  evils  in  its  train. 
In  Thy  deep  wisdom  let  us  trace 
This   lost   star   hidden    from   Thy   face. 


Up  from  the  primal  fall  Thou'st  shown 
The   way   of   life    to   mortal   breath; 

To  man's  estate  through  leaf  and  stone, 
From  change  to  change,  we've  fought  with 
death; 

Grant,  with  Thy  last  great  gift  of  mind, 

The  prince  of  darkness  we  may  bind! 

THE   DELUGE. 

(After  Washington   Allston.) 

SHROUDED  in  driving  clouds,  by  sun  forgot, 
The  darkened  sky  bends  sullen  o'er  the  wreck 
Of  the  great  deep  whose  fountains  are  released; 
And  gray  lit  waters  burst  against  the  gloom. 

The  murky  waves  wash  on  the  wasted  shore, 
Strewn  with  wan  corpses  where  the  serpents  glide; 
And  round  the  last  spar  of  earth's  wreckage  writhes 
A  monstrous  python,  coiled  in  fold  on  fold. 

Dark  birds  are  flying  'gainst  the  low  hung  clouds, 
Washed  with  the  spray  of  the  foundation  seas; 
And  lone  upon  a  summit  in  the  midst 
A   stranded  wolf  howls   o'er  the  desolate  world. 

Water  and  fire  shall  devastate  thee,  earth, 
And  the  wild  passions  of  man's  untamed  heart; 
Till,  of  the  types  to  which  thou  hast  given  birth, 
All  but  the  serpent  and  the  wolf  departl 


37 


COLORS  OF  DARK. 


thou  thine  eyes  and  see 
^^    Deep  in  the  deepest  night, 
What  royal  colors  be 

Wrought  of  the  hidden  light; 

As  on  some  stagnant  pool 
Leaf  hidden  from  the  sky, 

In  shadow  deep  and  cool 
Irradiant  colors  lie. 

Deeper  than  day  is  night, 
Deeper  than  life  is  death, 

Beyond  all  brightness  bright 
Light  which  there  entereth! 

The  sunlight's  brilliant  beams 
Break  in  a  thousand  dyes, 

Where  rainbows  cast  their  gleams 
Of  promise  o'er  the  skies; 

But  brighter  than  the  sun 

In  unseen  light,  I  wis, 
Whose  colors  float  upon 

The  midnight's  deep  abyss. 

Close  then  thine  eyes  and  see 
With  thine  own  inward  light 

What  gorgeous  colors  be 
Blazoned  upon  the  night! 


38 


CLOUD  PICTURES. 

THE  curtains  of  the  quiet  room 
Wave    idly   in   the    fitful   breeze; 
Far  off  the  city's  mellowed  hum 
Is  murmurous  as  bees. 

Across  the  heavens'  perfect  blue 
By  listless  currents  lightly  blown, 

Soft  clouds  bring  slowly  into  view 
The  hosts  of  the  unknown, 

The  long-forgotten  souls  outcast, 
That   yearn  again   for   mortal   birth; 

Earth  spirits   wandering  from  the  past 
Back  to  their  mother  earth. 

Where'er  the  vague  cloud-headlands  rise, 
Wan    spectres   glide   and   fade   again; 

And  some  have  walked  in  Paradise, 
And  some  were  yester  slain. 

Earth  calls,  defying  time  and  death, 
Her  myriads  to  the  haunts  of  day; 

And  all  that  once  drew  mortal  breath 
Still  own  her  jealous  sway. 


39 


THE    STONE    THAT   THE    BUILDERS 
REJECTED. 

WISELY   they  toiled,   the   builders,   fitting  well 
The  granite  blocks  of  equal  shape  and  size 
Cleft  from  one  quarry,  that  to  heaven  should  rise 
A  matchless  temple   where  their   god   might   dwell, 
Worshipped  above  all  gods  of  heaven  or  hell. 

And  as  they  wrought  in  that  long  vanished  day, 
Building  with  even  blocks,  a  curious  stone 
Come  to  their  hands,  for  which  no  use  was  known; 
Not  like  the  ones  they  used,  nor  shaped  as  they, 
Uncouth  it  seemed  and  so  was  flung  away. 

No  instrument  had  touched  it;  but  from  glow 
Of   earth's  primeval    fires   'twas   flaming   cast; 
And  cooling  into  rugged  form  at  last 
'Twas  washed  by  many  waters  to  and   fro, 
Shaped  as  the  tide  swings  and  the  tempests  blow. 

No   human   hands   its   symmetry   had   wrought; 
And  they,  earth  blind,  saw  not  how  passing  fair 
This  corner  stone  unlike  all  others  there! 
Saw  not  that  all  life's  secrets  it  had  caught, 
And  typified  the  thing  for  which  they  sought. 

But  when  at  length  the  pyramid  had  grown 
In  terrace  upon  terrace  to  the  sky, 


40 


Lo,  naught  could  fill  the  summit's  vacancy 
Till  there  they  placed,  majestic  and  alone, 
Head  of  the  corner,  the  rejected  stone! 


THE    AUTUMN    STAR. 

E  Autumn  leaves  turn  brown  and  sere 
•*-     And   drift   to   molder   in   the    shade; 
Down  by  the   river's  brink  a  fear 
Creeps   where   the   quivering  rushes  hear 
The  footsteps  of  the  passing  year 
Go  slowly  through  the  glade. 

His  pipes  are  silent;  in  despair 

Sits  Pan  amid  the  river  reeds. 
The   wind   blows   back  his   unkempt   hair 
Across  dank  marshes,  wild  and  bare; 
The  naiad  lurks  no  longer  there, 

Nor  faun  his  music  heeds. 

Lift  up  thy  head,  god  Pan,  and  see 
Among  the   stars  in   bright  array, 

The  nymphs  that  mortal  vales  must  flee! 

The  faun    Capella   beckons   thee 

To  notes  of  wilder  ecstasy — 
Take  up  thy  pipes  and  play! 


41 


DREAM. 

"The  <way  to  sleep  is  a  sheer  fall;  only  the  long 
return   slopes  are  dream   haunted." 

BESIDE   the   creeping  seas    I    lingered,   lingered, 
Drowsed  by  the  murmur  of  the  lapping  waves 
And  by  the   sinuous   shifting  of  the   mists. 

Beside    the    abyss    of    sleep    I    lingered,    lingered, 

Lingered — and  fell! 

Swift  as   a   plummet   falls,   my   spirit   dropped 

Down    the    sheer   sea   wall    of   the   deeps    of   sleep, 

And    swooned    for    unimaginable    time 

In   night   of  unimaginable    dark. 

Then   dawned  a  light  that  was   not  of  the   sun; 

And  from  the  surface  of  a  quiet  stream 
That  had  been  Time,  but  now  had   ceased  to  run, 

Like  morning  mists  there  rose  the  mists  of  dream. 

And  step  by  step  along  the  farther  slopes 
That  lead  up  to  the  living  world  again, 
I  came  companioned  by  the  wraiths  of  men 

And  by  the   spent  winds  of  their  fears  and  hopes. 

And,  as  one  sees  in  crystalline  deep  tides, 

Through  coral  caves  the  strange  bright  fishes  go 

Hither    and    thither    as    the    current    glides, 
Fantastic  visions  flitted  to  and  fro. 


42 


Flitted,    and    came    again.     Gleams    mistily 
Foretold   the   coming  day.     A  pebble  fell 
And  broke  in  shallow  waves  the  lingering  spell. 
I  heard  the  lapping,  lapping  of  the  sea, 
And  woke  to  earth's  bright  sunlight  over  me. 


CURRENCY 

Let  us  pay  with  our  bodies  for  our  souls'  desire. 

— Theodore    Roosevelt. 

OHIGH   of  soul,   flesh   doth   not  overwhelm, 
But  is  the  means  wherewith  all  things  to  buy! 
It  is  the  coin  current  of  the  realm 
Wherein  we  live  and  die. 

Upon  our  far,  strange  journey  to  that  home 

From  which  we  are  astray, 
The  Providence  that  destined  we  should  roam 

Gave   us  wherewith   to   pay. 

We  shall  arrive  if  nobly  we  aspire, 

And,  spending  flesh  to  buy  the  spirit  free, 

Pay   with    our   bodies    for   our   souls'   desire 
For  perfect  liberty. 


DIAMONDS. 

WROUGHT  of  the  sunshine  and  the  winds  and 
rains, 

And   seething  forests   of  the  young  world's  birth, 
The   Chemist   moulded   in    His    Crucible 
The  diamonds  of  earth. 

And  on  a  night  of  uttermost  deep   dark, 
Wild  with  the  dashing  of  the  turbulent  seas 

And  the   strange   passions   of  the   wind's   desire, 
From    His    high    place    within    the    highest    arc 
Of  heaven,   He   cast   the   burning   mysteries 
That   are    the    diamonds'   fire 

They   fell   like   star  gleams   on   the   riven   crags 

Of  earth,  and  in  her  valleys  and  her  sea; 
And  in  the   crevice  where   the   torrent  lags; 
And   where   the   desert   sands   perpetually 
Blow  to  and  fro;  and  where  the  eagle   seeks 
His   eyrie   'mid   the   summits   of  the  peaks. 
And,   buried   in   the   underbrush   and   mould, 
The  ancient  forests  still  their  strange  fires  hold. 

Few,    few    there    were    that    flashing    in    the    sun 
Fell  on  earth's  thrones;  but  waiting  age  by  age 
Still  patient  in   the  darkness  of  her  mines, 
In  the  great  blackness  how  their  glory  shines 
That   are   earth's   heritage! 


44 


THE  WINGED  GLOBE. 

HIGH    in    the    light,    Libra,    the   Winged    One, 
Guardeth   the  balance   of  the  orbed   scales 
That   hold   the   sleeping  serpent  of  the   sun, 
Coiled  in  its  seven  veils. 

Nor  wind  nor  any  storm  disturbs  its  rest, 

Poised   in    the    shadow   of   the    brooding   wings 

That  shield,  as   shields  the   mother  on  her  breast, 
The  child  to  whom  she   sings. 

Her  singing  is  the  music  of  the  spheres 

Crooned  as  the  current  flows,  now  high,  now  low, 

And  slumbrous  as  the  cradle  of  the  years 
She  rocketh  to  and  fro. 

Eternal    Life    is    she — the    parent    pair 

And   she   the  offspring — ever  three   in   one; 

Wings    of   the    Seraphim    o'erspreading   there 
The  chrysalis  of  the  Sun. 

And   free   beneath    the    eagle    wings    shall    be 
The   coming  and   the   going   of   the   years, 

That  keep   in   rhythmic   change   the   liberty 
And  balance  of  the  spheres. 


THE    ROAD    TO    YESTERDAY 

CLOSE  by  the  path  of  every  day 
The  winding  roadway  lies; 
We  breathe  the  incense  of  the  dawn 

Beneath    the    solemn    skies, 
And  lo!  cloud  curtains  lift  and  bring 
Old  scenes  before  our  eyes! 

A  sound  of  bell  on  summer  eve, 

A  breath  of  violet's  bloom, 
When  touch  of  little  clinging  hand 

Comes  with  the   faint  perfume — 
And  then  the  Road  to  Yesterday 

Breaks  shining  through  the  gloom! 

We  catch  a  glimpse  of  snowy  peaks 

Above  a  shadowed  vale; 
Or  down  some  mountain's  sloping  side 

There  bloom  the  wild  flowers  pale, 
Or  on  the  far  horizon  falls 

A  light   on   sinking  sail. 

Along  the  Road  to  Yesterday 

Lie  palaces  of  light 
And  windy  caves  in  barren  lands 

Whereof  no  man  has  sight. 
And  strange  moons  round  a  stranger  earth 

Draw  wild  tides  in  the  night! 


46 


The  road  leads  over  sunken  seas 

And  stretch  of  desert  sands; 
The  stars  of  long  past  ages  shine 

O'er  wondrous  twilight  lands; 
And  there  are  long  forgotten  friends 

Who  once  have  clasped  our  hands! 

ORION. 

OUT  of  the   ancient  east  he   comes, 
Tlie  radiant  hunter,  clad  in  stars: 
Nor  noise  of  war,  nor  beat  of  drums 
The    deep    supernal    stillness    mars. 
Above   the   shadow  of  his  eyes 
A  starry  helmet  circling  lies. 

Infinite   suns  about  him  gleam; 

Bright   Bellatrix,   with   warlike   ray; 
And   Betelgeuse,  whose   sullen   beam 

Was  crimsoned  in  aeonian  fray; 
And   Rigel,  flashing  at   his  feet 
In  fierce,  white  lightning,  young  and  fleet. 

Stars  gem  the  bright  sword  at  his  side, 
Forged  in  the  fire  of  seething  suns; 

And   round  his   strong  loins,   circling  wide 
A   starry   girdle   flaming   runs; 

And  leashed  in   silence,  star  with  star, 

There  follow  him  his  dogs  of  war. 


47 


THE  ROAD  OF  THE  RETURNER. 

tr  IMS  a  long  road  and  a  lone  road, 

•*-     And  the  returner  passes 
Where   snow  and  sleet   cling  to   his   feet 

And  Winter  wind  harasses; 
And  where  the  Summer  sunshine  burns 

The  dead  and  dying  grasses. 

Who    would    return,    stems   dark   and    stern, 

The  current  of  life's  river; 
The  things  he's  learned  he  must  unlearn 

And  give  back  to  the  giver; 
And  back  and  forth,  'twixt  death  and  birth, 

Must  go  alone  forever. 

'Tis  a  long  road  and  a  lone   road, 

For  no  companion  passes; 
And  all  the  old  remembered  way 

Is   lost  in   wild   morasses 
Where  pale  lights  lead  the  feet  astray 

Amid  the  dank  marsh  gases. 

'Tis  a  long  road  and  a  lone  road, 
And  lights  burn  blue  and  quiver, 

Where  rosy  flame,  the  way  he  came, 
In  vanished  days  shone  ever. 

'Tis  a  long  road  and  a  lone  road 
And  a  road  that  joyeth  never. 


48 


GIVE. 

OF  all  thou  boldest  fast 
While  the  years  roll 
There   remains  at  the  last 

Never  a   dole; 

All  that  thou  givest  thou  hast, 
Give   all,    O    my   soul! 

Keep  not  in  hoarded  store 

Treasures  of  mind; 
Open   each   closed  door, 

Fling  wide    each   blind; 
Scatter  like  flame  and  more 

Like  flame  thou  shalt  find. 

Love  fears  not  waste,   nor  theft, 

Nor  time's  recall; 
It  leaves  no  place  bereft 

Where  it  may  fall. 
Give  till  no  more  is  left, 

Thou  who  wouldst  have  all! 


FROM  THE  EAST. 

WIND   of  the   Sunrise   Land! 
Waft  to  me,  wandering  'neath  these  western 

skies, 

A   little   of  thy  balm — the   peace   that   lies 
Where    softly   shifts   the    sand. 

Breathe    faint   across   the    years 
The  fragrance  of  the  spices,  when  the  eves 
Were  bathed  in  dew,  and  swooning  lotus  leaves 

Drooped   with    their   weight   of   tears. 

What  mysteries  vague  and  grand 
Lie  all   forgotten  where  thy  soft  airs  sleep! 
Into  my  heart  the  long  past  memories  creep, 

Wind  of  the   Sunrise   Land! 

A  little  while  the  haze 

Seems   lifted   from   the   valleys;    and    the    peaks 
Whisper  together  in  a  tongue  that  speaks 

Of  long   forgotten    days. 

So  sweet,  so  passing  sweet, 
Thou    wind    of    morn    and    spring!      Remembrance 

grieves  , 
And   drifts   of  gold   and   crimson   autumn   leaves 

Lie  gathered  at  my  feet. 

Wind   of   the    morning's    breath! 
A  moment,  O  a  moment,  let  me  feel 


50 


Thy  magic  'mid  the  lotus  leaves  that  heal, 
O  wind,  the  wounds  of  death! 

Waft   sweet   dreams    softly   fanned 
Across  the  long  day's  journeying  forlorn, 
To   mine   eve's  twilight   from   my   twilight   morn, 

Wind    of   the    Sunrise    Land! 

INEFFACEABLE. 

ALL  that  hath  been  shall  ever  be, 
Nor  any  act  or  word  be  vain; 
Engraved  on  time  indelibly 

And  in  the  light  all  deeds  remain; 
For  though  God  hath  dominion,  He 
Cannot  make  void  the  past  again. 

Reverse  the  whirling  wheel  of  time, 
Retrace  the  pathway  of  the  light, 

And  in  old  India's  sunny  clime, 
Or  ancient  Egypt's  darkest  night, 

We  hear  the  temple  bells  a-chime 
And  see  the  altars  burning  bright. 

Upon  the  moving  screen  the  flood 

Is    still    recorded    fadelessly; 
And  we  may  stand  where  Moses  stood 

And  vision  of  his  Canaan  see; 
Or  in  some  rare  exalted  mood, 

May   yet   behold    Gethsemane. 


REMEMBRANCE. 

IN  a  far  land,  Beloved,  a  far  land, 
A   lake    lay    blue    beneath    the    Egyptian    skies, 
Where  now  beside  the  weary  Raiyan   sand 
Mueilah's  desert  lies. 

In  a  far  land  and  long  forgotten  day 

The    valley    caught    the    overflow    of    Nile; 

And  I,  who  loved  its  lights  and  shadows,  may 
The   mirage    see   a   while. 

Limpid  and  cool,  the  dewdrops  of  the  morn 
Lie  quivering  on  the  violets;   row  on  row. 

Swayed  by  the  whispering  zephyrs  of  the  dawn, 
The   brooding   rushes   grow. 

Wide  fields  of  violets  border  all  its  ways 
With  azure  blooms  in  odorous  shadows  deep. 

The  mist  above  the  waters  and  the  haze 
I  see  again,  and  sleep. 

The   mist  above  the  waters — one   lone   call 
Of  waking  bird — the  scent  of  violets — 

And   I   who   dream   have    once   again   known    all 
The   weary   earth   forgets! 


52 


SAHARA. 

MY  life  is  like  the  hidden  stream 
That  flows  beneath  the  desert  sands, 
Whose  sluggish  memory  holds  a  gleam 
Of  long  past   sunny  lands. 

Across  the  waste  the  camels  glide, 
The  sands  of  centuries  drift  and  blow; 

And  thrones  are  dust  that  rose  in  pride, 
While   I   sleep  on  below. 

O  lands  so  fair!     O  sunny  days! 

Have  ye  forever  vanished  hence? 
My  soul  flows  on  in  deep  amaze, 

It  knows  not  where  or  whence! 

A  million  eons  yet  my  stay 

Beneath  the  desert  sands  may  mark. 

The  memory  of  a  single  day 
Will  lead  me  through  the  dark. 

ALL  AWRY. 


D' 


One   asked   in   woe.      No  answer   came;   but, 

hark, 

A  low  and  bitter  murmur  at  his  side, 
''Mine  eyes  are  open,  brother,  in   the   dark!" 


53 


TO  THE  MUMMY  OF  A  KING  WHO  WAS 
SLAIN. 

OTHOU  who  knowest  both  love  and  hate, 
Pharaoh, 

Rememberest  when  in  royal  state 
Upon  the  goddess  thou  didst  wait, 
The  priestess  at  the  temple's  gate? 

The  sun  shone  bright  on  cloth  of  gold, 

Pharaoh; 

And  she  was  fair  that  would  behold 
The  world  without  the  temple's  fold; 
And  thou  wert  high  and  thou  wert  bold, 

Pharaoh. 

Rememberest  in  this  dim  alcove 
How  soft  the  blue  skies  bent  above 
The   roses   in   the   temple's   grove? 
How  long  is  hate,  how  brief  is  love, 
Pharaoh! 

The  leopard's  skin  gave  leopard's  sight, 

Pharaoh, 

Unto  the  priest  who,  robed  in  white, 
Before  the  altar  day  and  night 
Guarded  the  mysteries  and  the  light. 


And  them  whose  glance  was  stern  and  high, 
How  was  it  when  thou  earnest  to  die? 
Did  the  lone  night  wind  hear  a  cry? 
Went  there   a  leopard   swiftly   by, 
Pharaoh,  Pharaoh? 


THE  FADELESS  VISION. 

THOU  Autumn  leaf,  that  as  a  dolphin  dies, 
In  all  the  gorgeous  hues  of  sunset  skies, 
I  will  preserve  thee  in  some   favorite  book, 
Between  whose  well-loved  pages  I  may  look 
Often  upon  thy  beauty,  as  today! 

Spake   then,   within,   the   Seer's  voice:   "Nay, 
Thou  hast  the  deathless  vision,  go  thy  way, 
And  leave  the  fading  shape  to  life's  decay, 
Which  in  its  passing  passion  thou  hast  seen. 
Gold  is  the  leaf  which  yesterday  was  green, 
And  which  tomorrow  is  but  dust,  and  gray. 
The  vision  is  eternal;  that  which  made 
The  vision  is  illusion,  and  must  fade. 
All  things  perceived  that  perish  as  time  rolls 
Leave  their  eternal  imprint  on  our  souls; 
So,  grown  a  part  of  that  which  may  not  die, 
Pass  with   us   into   immortality." 


55 


THOf  HMES  THE  THIRD. 

OUT  from  the  past  thou  hast  looked  for  a  space, 
While    the    New    World    gazed    on    thine    Old 
World  face, 

In  the  pride  of  its  power  and  its  dust  of  disgrace, 
Thothmes! 

Out  from  the  past  but  a  single  hour, 
Thy  blind  eyes  glance  in  their  old  time  power; 
The  eyes  of  the  living  behold  them  and  cower, 
Thothmes! 

And  into  the  night  of  the  ages  gone 
Thou  fallest  again  with  the  touch  of  morn, 
Thy  dust  to  the  dust  from  which  it  was  born, 
Thothmes! 

Thy    dust    to    the    dust    of    the    centuries    there — 
The    sands   and    the    centuries,    wide    and    bare, 
That    gather    and    drift    in    the    death    still    air, 
Thothmes! 

Over   the   desert   rise    scattered   and   lone 
The  obelisks,  writ  with  the   deeds  thou  hast  done. 
The  sun  rays  fall  on  the  rays  of  stone, 
Thothmes! 

From  the  twilight  eves  to  the  far  sunrise 
Mutely  they  pray  to  the  pitiless  skies, 
In  the  graven  record  that  time  defies, 
Thothmes! 

56 


"Lo,    the    battles    fought   and    the    victories    won! 
Behold,   great   Ra,   the   works    I    have    done, 
And  cherish  and  honor  thy  glorious  son, 
Thothmes!" 

Between  the  banks  of  the  drifting  sand 
The  river  sleeps  in  that  twilight  land, 
By  the  stars   of  eternity  solemnly   spanned, 
Thothmes! 

Faded  and  gray  are  the  flowers  that  arrayed 
The    cerements   royal   in   which    thou   wast   laid — 
Rudely    disordered    and    dim    and    decayed, 
Thothmes! 

And  a  wasp  interred  'mid  the  rare  perfume 
Of  the  myrrh  and  spices  that  graced  thy  tomb, 
Outlasts  thy  state  and  thy  crumbling  doom, 
Thothmes,    Thothmes! 


57 


THE   SOWER   OF   LIFE. 

THERE  goeth  a  sower  forth  to  sow, 
With  both  hands  flinging  the  fertile  seed 
Wherever    his    wandering    footsteps    go, 
By  hill  or  valley,  by  river  or  mead. 

Little  he  recks  where  the  good  seed  fall, 
Little  he  cares  that  they  live  or  die; 

And  some  bloom  out  by  the  garden  wall, 
And  some  in  the  ditches  rotting  lie. 

And  some  on  the  mountain  top  are  cast 
Wide  to  the  skies  where  the  wild  winds  blow; 

And  some  are  caught  in  the  burning  blast; 
And  seaward  some  on  the  great  waves  go. 

Little  he  recks  and  little  he  cares, 
The  heedless  sower  by  sea  and  land, 

For  the  wasted  seed  that  are  clicked  with  tares, 
Or  the  barren  seed  in  the  desert  sand; 

For  the  drowned  out  seed  in  the  ocean  tide 
That  sink  to  the  boundless  deeps  below, 

Or  with  the  drifting  flotsam  ride 
Listlessly  ever  to  and  fro. 

Lord  of  the  vineyard  and  the  rose, 

Gardener,    take    a   little   heed 
Of  thy  careless  servant,  the  sower,  that  goes 

Wasting  forever  the  precious  seed! 

58 


EARTH    MUSIC 

THERE  are    Earth  melodies  akin   to   those 
Celestial    anthems    sung 

When    John    on    Patmos    Isle    was    lifted    up 
The  angelic   hosts  among: 

The    murmur   of   the    illimitable    sea 

That  breaks  along  the  shore, 
The    while    beneath    the    moon    the    slow    tides    ebb 

And  flow  forevermore; 

The  sound  at  noontide  heard  in  quiet  nook 

Amid   the   city's   strife, 
Of  that  deep  rhythmic  monotone  which  tells 

Of   surging   human    life; 

The  pulsing  of  the  wild  blood  in  our  veins 

As  round  our  hearts  it  swings; 
And  rune  of  wires  whose  viewless  currents  beat 

Their   vast    imprisoned    wings! 

All  these  are  chorals  of  Eternal  Life 

Whose    glory    all    worlds    sing, 
Orb   within   orb,   from   inmost   cycles   here 

To    Heaven's    outmost    ring. 


59 


THE  BIG  TREE  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

I  AM   that  tree,  millenium  old, 
Around  whose  heart  recording  rolled 
The  circling  years,  like  sea  waves  graven, 
That  laid  the  centuries  fold  on  fold. 

An  unknown  world  of  land  and  sea 
Slept  at  my  feet;  and  over  me 
The  wise  skies  whispered  of  the  wonders 
That  had  been,  and  that  were  to  be. 

The  thousand  years  of  night  did   seern 
To  shroud  the  moon  and  starlight's  gleam; 
And  in  the  dark  the  strange,  wild  nations 
Passed  on  as  shadows  in  a  dream. 

Across  the  world  old  empires  fell; 

A  heaven  was  peopled;  and  a  hell 

Filled  to  the  brim  with  souls  that  struggled, 

And   won   a  losing  game   too   well! 

Then  on  these  western   shores  the  sun 
Rose  as  the  circling  planet  spun. 
And  lo!  while   in   the   dark   I'd   slumbered, 
The  cycle  of  a  world  had  run! 

The  new  earth  smiles;  and  murmuring  waves 
That  babble  over  old,  old  graves, 


60 


Laugh  in  the  sunlight;  while  the  ocean 
The  long-drawn  coast  line  laps  and  laves. 

The  stern  sea-coast  from  pole  to  pole, 
Still  holds  the  waters  in  control; 
But  sunlit  skies  look  far  and  whisper — 
"Oblivion's   waves  again   shall  roll!" 


AT  AMIENS. 

COMES    to    my    mind    forevermore    a    vision 
Far  over  land  and  sea, 

Of    troops    that    to    encampment    are    returning 
After  a  victory. 

Back  to  the  city,  back  to  Amiens   slowly, 

In   broken   files  they   creep; 
'Tis    midnight,    and    the    darkness    is    upon    them, 

And    weariness    and    sleep. 

They    clutch    the    backs    of    heavy    laden    wagonj 

Filled  with   a   ghastly   load, 

Whose    creaking    wheels,    slow    turning,    help    their 
lagging 

Footsteps  along  the  road. 

Too  weak  the  horses,  led  by  stumbling  masters, 

To    bear    them    any    more; 
And  slowly  shuffling,  drunk  with  sleep,  and  bleeding, 

Returns  the  conqueror. 


61 


IMMANUEL. 

STILL  art  Thou  with  me!     White  clouds  of  the 
noon-day 

Reveal  Thy  presence  moving  on  before; 
The   stars  of  night,  Thy  fiery  pillar  guiding, 
Still  lead  me  as  Thine  Israel  of  yore. 

I  hear  Thee  in  the  wind's  breath  lightly  moving 
The  blades  of  grass,  the  leaf  upon  the  tree; 

Behold  Thee  in  the  sunset  and  the  dawning; 
The  trembling  shafts  of  sunrise  show  mt  Thee. 

From  soaring  heights  I  see  Thy  vast  horizon 
Sink  slowly,  slowly;  circling  in  repose 

The  nearer  plains,  the  far  supernal  mountains, 
And  that  great  mystery  of  the  sea  that  goes 

In  slow  tide  waves  about  the  world  forever, 

Obedient  to  Thy  will  unrestingly! 
I  hear  Thee  in  the  murmurs  of  the  forest, 

And  lie  within  its  shadow  feeling  Thee! 

Lo!  Thou  hast  guided  me  and  strength  hast  given, 
And  courage,  yea,  and  faith  by  night  and  day; 

And  now  the  long,  long  journey  nearly  ended, 
Uphold  me  that  I  faint  not  by  the  way! 

Still  art  Thou  near!     The  silver  trumpets  blowing 

Amid    the    wilderness   at    eventide 
Summon   Thine    Israel    to   the   night's   encampment; 

Lord,  in  Thy  tarrying  presence   I  abide! 

62 


THE  GIFT. 

SAITH  God  to  men;  "Ye  may 
Have  what  ye  will,  but  pay!" 
So  paying  its   full  worth 
Man  has  possessed  the  earth: 
Wealth   bought  by  labor's   stress; 
Fame  paid  in  happiness; 
Knowledge  acquired  with  ruth; 
Wisdom  exchanged  for  youth. 

One  thing  we  may  not  buy! 
We  know  not  when  nor  why, 
But  falling  from  above 
About  us,  cometh  love. 
It  stealeth  in  the  heart, 
A  mystery  apart, 
And  may  not  purchased  be; 
Tis  God's  gift  utterly! 


f)3 


LOYALTY. 

"AH,  tempt  me  not!     Old  friends  are  all  I  need, 

-*••*•!   care   not  for  the  new  and  the   untried; 
Old  voices,  only,  speak  in   harmony, 

And   unfilled   be   the   place   of  those   that   died. 
I   go   companioned   by   my   memory; 

Within  my  house   of  life   the  vacant  walls 
Whence    one    by    one    old    portraits    fall    and    He 
Crumbling    to    dust,    attest    my    loyalty, 

And   emptiness   the  vanished   past  recalls." 

Nay,   hang  new  portraits   where    the   dust    is   rife 
About   thy   vanished   dead;   thy   house   of   life 
Needs    all    that    love    can    give    to    beautify, 
And  hold  thee   loyal   still   to   those   that   die. 
Thou  mayst  not  stay  thy  dead;   the  vacant  space 
People   with   life   and   love,    lest    devils    replace. 

Oh,   deem   not   those   unchanged   that  pass   away 
To  life's  green   fields  beyond  this   twilight  gray 
Where    thou    with    thy    remembrances    dost    tread — - 
They   change,  as  all  life  must,   thy  deathless  dead! 
Then  cease  thy  strife  the  tide  of  life  to  stem, 
And   change   with   grace   so   thou   companion    them. 

Let   the  new  faces   gather  at  thy  board, 
And    in    new    chalices    old    wine    be    poured; 
Let  other  voices  echo  vanished  strains 
In  whose  new  harmony  old  love  remains; 
And   know   the   perfume   passing   from   the   rose 
Abideth   still   in   every  bud   that  blows! 
64 


DROPPING  THE  BURDEN. 

WE  grow  so  weary  of  our  human  work, 
The  day  long  labor  and  the  many  deeds 
Our  hands   have   wrought; 
We  grow  so  'weary  of  the  cares  that  irk 

Our  restless   brains,   our   bodies   and   their  needs, 
So  weary  of  our  thought! 

Even    as    mill    children    sleep    not    at    the    mill 
Where  all  day  long  they  toil  the  hours  away. 

When  dark  is  on  the  deep 
And  all  the  great  wheels  silent  are   and   still, 

Like    these    mill   children,    Lord,   at   close    of   day 
We  would  go  home  to  sleep; 

Where   nothing  of  our  handiwork  appears 
And  all  surroundings  shall  be  wholly  Thine: 

Thy    boundless    sky, 
Unchanged  through   the   illimitable   years, 

Thine  untracked  winds,  Thy  stars  of  fire  divine, 
Thy  deep  eternity! 


FORWARD. 

AFTER    the    battle    patching    up    and    healing 
Go   the    great    surgeons,    making   men    again 
Out  of  the   fragments  left   by   shell's   explosion, 
Out  of  the  remnants  left  by  shrapnel's  rain; 

Adjusting  here   a  limb  and   there  an   organ, 

New     skin,     new     members,     coaxing     flickering 
breath; 

Renewing  men,  and   to   the   reeking  trenches 
Sending  them  back   to   be    the   sport    of   death. 

O   Great   Physician,   healing  all   earth's  wounded, 
After    life's    battle    bringing    balm    for    pain, 

Out    from    these    bodies    all    outworn    and    broken 
Let   us    go   forth    and    come    not   back   again! 

The    fight    is    fought,    and    won    or    lost    the    battle, 
Let  not  our  mortal  injuries  be   healed; 

Let  us  go  forward  in  time's  marching  order 
And   fight  the   fight  on   some   untrodden   field! 


66 


RAINY    DAY    IN    THE    PARK. 

ALONG  the  winding  pathways  lie 
Gray  pools  of  water  in   between 
The    pebbles,    where    the    glint    of    sky 
Reflected   gray   is  seen. 

And  where  about  the  ponds  the  sedge, 
O'erladen,  droops  its  heavy  head, 

The  dull  drops  fall  upon  the  edge 
Of  melting  ice  like  lead. 

Deep  in  the  withered  grass  is  heard 
A  rain  bound  cricket's  cheerless  cry; 

And  note  of  some  far  homing  bird, 
Beneath   the   desolate   sky. 


TO  AN  IDLER. 

TF   Satan   finds  some  mischief  still   for   idle   hands 

to  do, 
How  busily  your  hands  to  fill  he's  kept  supplying 

youl 

And  if,  forsooth,  'tis  idleness  we  find  the  mischief  in, 
Why  he  is  busier  than  you  and  guilty  of  less  sin! 


67 


THE  NOON  HOUR  AT  ST.  PAUL'S. 

OUTSIDE    in    the    noisy    street 
Come    and    go    the    hurrying    feet; 
But    within    the    quiet    churchyard 
Noonday    rest    is    passing    sweet. 

Here  the  sparrows  chirp  and  peep 
In  the  grass,  and  blossoms  creep, 
Nodding  in  the  wind  and  sunshine, 
Where    the    granite    headstones    sleep. 

For  a   century  have   I 
Lain  here  where  the  gravestones  lie 
Lichen-covered,  old  and  gray, 
Carved  with  names  that  fade  away. 

Green  the  trailing  ivy  swings 

On  the  church  wall  where  it  clings; 

And  beyond  the  turf  and  grass 

I  can  see  the  white  clouds  pass. 

I  can  see  the  heaven's  blue 
And   the    glory   shining   through; 
And  on  spire  and  vine  and  wall 
The  sunlight  and  the  shadow  fall. 

Silent,  passive,  year  by  year, 
These  things  watch  I,  lying  here; 
Waiting  in  a  dream  of  peace 
Till  the  long  hours  bring  surcease. 


68 


Ye  who  come  at  noon  to  rest, 
Come  with  welcome  as  a  guest; 
But  I  pray  you  in  your  kindness 
Heed  the  turf  above  my  breast; 
Tread  not  o'er  me  where  I  lie 
With  face  upturned  to  the  sky. 


A   POET   PASSES. 
(Richard    Watson    Gilder) 

if/- 1 AHE    Dream    goes    with    the    Dreamer."     Nay, 
•A-    not    so. 

Passes    the    Rose   when    mortal   vision    dies? 
Shall   we   decree    no    tender   breezes   blow 

Beneath    wide    alien    skies, 
Because    none    feels    their    lingering    caress? 

The  whispering  music  is  but  breathed  in  vain, 
With   no   wind-harp  within  the   wilderness 

To   catch   the   wild   sweet   strain. 

O    Poet,    O    Interpreter,    the   dream 

Remains  with  us  who  may  not  understand! 
Across  vast   spaces   may   some   radiant   gleam 

Reach    us    from    that    far    land 
Where  thou  hast  gone,  and  make  the  darkness  glow 

That  we   may  follow  where   thy  feet  have   led! 
"The  Dream  goes  with  the  Dreamer"?     Nay,  not  so; 

The   Dream  is   with   us,   uninterpreted. 


69 


JOHN-A-DREAMS. 

OH,    in    the    park    walked    John-a-dreams 
With    slow    and   measured    tread; 
The  weary  park,  where  round  and  round 

The   winding  pathways   led. 
The  sky  was  shadowy  with  cloud 

And  the   crescent  moon   had   fled, 
And  outside  in  the  blazing  streets 
The  lights  burned  green  and  red. 

Outside  along  the  blazing  streets 

The  lights  burned  gold  and  blue, 
And    winked    and    glowed    and    flashed    and    reeled 

As  drunken  lights  might  do, 
The  hundred  thousand  garish  lights 

That    night    and    Broadway    strew; 
And  in  the  park  walked  John-a-dreams 

Where  the  grass  was  wet  with  dew. 

All   night  within   the   park  he   paced 

The  paths   that   nowhere   led; 
And  at  the  dawning  came  a  voice 

From  the  far  white  stars  o'erhead: 
"Whence  comest  thou,  O  John-a-dreams, 

That  passest  with  the  dead?" 
"I    come   from    going   to   and    fro 

And   up   and   down,"   he    said, 
"Upon    thine    earth,    Lord    God,    whereon 

I   sold  my  soul   for  bread." 

70 


THE  ALGAE  IN  BRONX  PARK. 

SLOWLY  the  fleecelike  clouds  drift  by, 
Lightly  blown  by  the  listless  breeze, 
In  the  infinite  arch  of  the  azure  sky 
That  bends  to  the  brooding  hemlock  trees. 

Measureless   life   in   the   sky  beyond; 

And    under    the    arch    of    the    matchless    blue, 
Measureless  life  in  the  marshy     pond 

Where  the  spirogyra  hides  from  view. 

Here  where   the   dying  summer   grieves 
In  the  twilight  eves  of  the  year  forlorn, 

Under  the  pall  of  the  drifted  leaves 
In  the  slimy  ooze  is  the  algae  born. 

Infinite  life  in  the  blue  beyond, 

Where  the  fields  of  the  nebulae  strew  the  sky; 
And  infinite  life  in  the  marshy  pond 

Where  the  old  drowned  leaves  of  the  summer  lie! 

From  the  outer  deeps  where  the  worlds  are  born 
To  the  inner  deeps  of  the  algae's  cell, 

Life  calls  to  life  in  its  primal  morn, 
And   God  makes  answer,  "All  is  well!" 


71 


THE  VANISHED  EARTH  GODS. 

THERE  are  no  gods  to  hear  us; 
He  hath  taken  our  gods  away — 
The  Princes  of  Air  who  hearkened  our  prayer — 
And   we   have    forgotten    to   pray. 

The   children   scoff  in   the   highways 

And   use   His   name  for   a  jest; 
And  the  high  priests  laugh  and  chatter  and  quaff, 

And   rule   their  lives   like   the   rest. 

He  is  not  like  us — He  hears  not, 

Nor  heedeth  our  uttered  plea; 
But  the   gods  of  the  earth  as  mortals  had  birth, 

And  they  were  fashioned  as  we. 

The  god  of  the  rains  and  the  rivers 
Was  strong,  and  we  served  him  aghast; 

And  we  hushed  our  breath  with  the  fear  of  death 
When  the  lord  of  the  night  wind  passed. 

Messengers  they,  not  judges, 

Nor  measured  the  right  and  wrong; 
But  they  heard  our  pleas  in  the  winds  and  the  seas, 

And  were   swift  to  answer   and   strong. 

Or  that  our  prayers  were  righteous, 
Or   that    our   prayers   were   amiss, 


72 


Little    they'd    care,    the    spirits    of    air, 
They  answered,  and  judgment  was  His! 

Still  is   He   far   beyond  us, 

Master  and   spirit   of   light; 
And  they  who  were   near  and  fashioned  to  hear 

Are  gone,  and  now  it  is  night! 


THE  SHADOW. 

TRAILED  by  the  clinging  shade  it  flees  and  fears, 
Which  mocks  in  shape  each  changing  form  and 

face, 
Up  from  the  dark  through  all  the  creeping  years 

Life  climbs  earth's  summits  to  the  highest  place; 
And   there,   as   in    God's   image   man   appears, 
The   glory   sweeps   his   shadow   into   space. 

O  Death,  intangible  and  dread  of  name, 

Deepening  in  darkness  as  life's  blaze  grew  bright 

Along  the  rugged  pathway  that  we  came, 

We  know  thee  now  our   shadow  in  the   light, 

Cast  by'  the  whiteness  of  God's  Sirian   flame 
On  some  far  planet  shining  in  the  night! 


73 


IN    CITY   HALL   PARK. 

HE  stands,  a   simple  soldier,   there, 
Who    deemed    one    life    too    small    a    fee 
For  him  to  give  in  that  great  strife 
That   made   his   country   free. 

And  it  is   free!     High   o'er   the   din 

And  turmoil  of  the  city's  ways, 
Lo!  Justice  holds  her  sword  and  scales 

Above  the  land  she  sways. 

The   commerce  of  a  giant  world 

Moves  at  his  feet.      Within  his  reach 

The  tongues  of  nations  meet;   the  air 
Is  vibrant  with   their   speech. 

He  sees  where  science  delves  and  wrests 
The  rock  ribs  of  the  earth  apart, 

And  fills,  with  teeming  floods  of  life, 
The   arteries   of  her   heart. 

In  sober  garb  and  quiet  mien 

He  stands;   from  out  the  western   skies, 
Athwart    the    calmness    of   his    face, 

The    peaceful    sunshine    lies. 

And   while   our  land   endures   to   reap 
His  sowing,  memory  shall  not  fail 

Of  him  who  died  that  she  might  live, — 
The    patriot,    Nathan    Hale! 


74 


THE    DARK. 

OH,  blest  is  man  who   in  these  latter  days 
Hath  been  permitted  by  the   gods  to  raise 
Earth's    ancient    curtain    of    the    dark,    that    blight 
That  fell  like  pestilence   with   every  night! 

Then  in  the  deep  pit  of  the  moonless  sky 
Only   the    frightened    stars    went    hurrying   by 
Above    earth's   midnight   forests;    and   dark   seas 
Drew   from  the   shrouding  night   their  mysteries. 

And  rivers  rolled  in  darkness,  and  lone  heights 
Lifted  vain   summits  in   the   levelling  nights 
That  wiped  out  inequalities  of  earth 
As  in  reft  hearts  death  leaveth  level  dearth. 

So  all  these  dark  things  in  the  darkness  seemed 
To  be  to  earth  as  dreams  which  she  had  dreamed 
In  night  time;  while  there  stalked  with  blazing  eyes 
The  nightmare  beasts  for  hungry  sacrifice. 

Oh,  blest  is  man  who  in  these  latter  days 
Hath    learned    the    curtain    of    the    dark    to    raise! 
And  may  he  learn,   ere   flits  this  human   breath, 
To  raise   at   last   earth's   darkest   curtain,   death  1 


75 


THE  WRECKER  OF  THE  HOSPITAL. 

I    HELPED    to    wreck   the    hospital 
Where  crippled  children  lay, 
What  time  the  building  was  condemned 

And  the  white  cots  moved  away; 
And  I  learned  that  where  the  seer  is 
The   vision   is   alway. 

I  do  not  know  what  life  and  death 

And  sin  and  suffering  mean; 
But  this   I  know  through  things  I've  heard, 

And   things  mine   eyes   have   seen, — 
Earth    holds    indelibly   the    trace 

Of  all  that  once  hath  been. 

I  helped  to  tear  the   building  down 

That  held  in  row  on   row 
The   tiny  cots;   and   here   and   there, 

Wherever   I   might  go, 
I'd  catch  a  glimpse  of  baby  face, 

Or   hear  a   weeping  low. 

I  do  not  know  what  others  saw, 

Or   others   heard;   but   I, 
Perpetually   amid   the    din, 

Heard   some    wee    sufferer's    cry; 
And   sometimes   flitting  in   the   sun, 

A   little   shade   passed   by. 


76 


Sometimes   I'd   feel   a   gentle   touch, 
Like    rose    leaves    from   the    skies; 

And  in   quick  vision   fairy  land 

And    gleaming    towers    would    rise, 

And  breath  of  flowers,  that  gladdened  through 
Some    sweet   soul's   ministries. 

And    once,    amid    a    mighty    crash 

That  seemed  to  rend  the  deep, 
I  heard  a  crooning  lullaby, 

And  great  wings  softly  sweep; 
And  then  I  knew  that  angels  watch 

Where    crippled   children   sleep. 

AT    HALF    MAST. 

EARTH  lowers  its  standard  to  thy  shadowy  one, 
Conqueror    of    human    breath, 
But    till    we    see    thy    banners    in    the    sun 
We    yield    no    victory,    Death! 

Lord  of  this  world  and  of  this  human  form 

Wherein   our   souls   abide, 
Thou  hast  but  quelled  the  tumult  of  the  storm 

And  stilled  the  surging  tide. 

Lo!  unto    Caesar   what  was   given   in    trust 

Is  rendered  up;   in   scorn 
Life   passes   from  thy  kingdom   of   the   dust 

To   wider    empire    born. 


77 


AT  A  WEST   INDIAN  OBSERVATORY. 

THEN  stood  I  with  the  watcher  of  the  south, 
Turning    his    glass    upon    the    starry    heavens 
Nightly   above   the   tamarinds   and   palms; 
And    saw    the    great    suns    flaming   in    the    dark, 
With   crimson,   emerald   and   cerulean    fires 
Blown  by  ethereal  winds  along  the  deep. 

Beheld   amid   the   whirling  nebulae 
Of  molten  spheres  in  clouds  of  golden  flame 
The  planets  shaping  on  the  Potter's  wheel; 
And   clustered   glory  break  in  myriad   stars, 
Like  fiireflies  glimmering  in  primeval  dusk 
A-down   the  twilight  of  empyrean   fields. 

*  *     *     Beheld  within  the  flying  shaft  of  light 
Flung  by  the  Centaur  to  the  flaming  Cross, 
Companion    suns    in    one    transcendent    star, 
Bound  each  to  each  by  law  that  breaks  nor  swerves, 
Burn  through  the  night  in  azure,  red  and  gold; 
And   that  bright   pendent  jewel   of  the    Cross, 
That  blazed  upon    God's  bosom  in   the    sky 

Ere  yet  the  world  was  made,  reveal  in  fire 
The  ancient  mystery  of  His  trinity, 
Great  Alpha,  throned  upon  his  triple  spheres 
Above  the  darkness  of  the  Deep  Abyss. 

*  *     *     So    seeing,    stood   in   awe;   and   knew   it    is 
The  fool  alone  who  in  his  heart  hath   said, 
"There   is   no    God!"     Behold,   the    heavens    declare 
His   glory,   and   the   firmament   shows   forth 

His    matchless    handiwork! 
78 


THE  MELTING  POT. 

FLING   them  all   in   the   melting  pot, 
Native,  and  strange  to  these  harboring  shores, 
Where  the  scarlet  fires  are  flaming  hot 
And  the  noise  of  the  conflagration  roars. 

Foreigners,  citizens,  gather  here, 

Drawn   by   the    light   and    held    in    thrall; 

Moths    that    out    of    the    darkness    appear 
To  answer  headlong  the   fateful  call. 

And    some    are   lifted   out    of   the    ditch, 

And   some   are    dragged    from   the    hills    of   pride; 

The   lowly  and   noble,  poor   and   rich, 
Seething  and    bubbling  side   by    side. 

And    some    bring    thrift    and    brains    and    skill 
And   cast   them   all   in   the   common    store; 

And   some   bring   sloth  and   the    sins   that   kill 
That  into  the  fusing  caldron  pour. 

It  levels  them  all  like  the  leveller,  death, 
That  brings  to  one  semblance  all  who  live; 

And  out  of  the  furnace  a  common  breath 
To  each  that  riseth  again  doth  give. 

Oh,  well  it  is  for  the  crawling  beast 

That   is   graded   up   from   the   slime   of   the   town; 
But  alas,   for  the   soaring  dreams  that  have   ceased 

In  the  generous  soul  that  is  melted  down! 


79 


ON  THE  FACE  OF  THE  WATERS. 

THE    sunlight   falls    upon   the    lake 
Where   grasses   on   the   margin   grow; 
And  grasses  in  the  wave  below 
A  green  reflected  jungle  make. 

In  light  and  shade  the  ripples  run, 
Where  branches  overhanging  lie 
Athwart  the  blue  of  mirrored  sky, 

And  fret  the  gold  of  mirrored  sun. 

A  bird  of  air  hath  perched  at  will, 

And  swings  where  drooping  branches  lave; 
A   mirrored  bird   within   the   wave 

Swings  with  its  motion,  or  is  still. 

It  hath  no  will  nor  way  alone, 

This  image  in  the  waters  shown ; 

But  when  the  lengthening  wavelets  glide 

Softly    upon    the    quiet    tide, 

An    indolent    unrest    they    give 

That  makes  the  image   seem  to  live. 

Even  so,  I  deem,  is  man  a  shade 
By  spirit  on  the   waters   made, 
Illusion,  under  the   control 
Of   circumstances   and   his   soul: 
His  soul — the  living  bird  o'erhead; 
The  circumstances — ripples  spread. 

80 


A  FROSTED  WINDOW. 

IT  is  free  as   the  wind,  the  spirit, 
And  it  shapeth  itself  as  it  will; 
And  here  on  the  florist's  window, 

When  the  night  is  frozen  and  still, 

It  taketh  strange   forms  of  the   forest, 

And   jungle   and   stream   and    hill. 

Out  of  the  viewless  ether 

It   gathereth   mistily; 
Slowly   shaping   and    forming 

In  blossom  and  vine  and  tree, 
With  a  grace  of  unspeakable  beauty, 

And  free  as  the  wind  is  free. 

It  hath  woven   a  crystalline  jungle, 
Scintillant,  frosty  and  white; 

Bamboo  and  palm  and  aloe 
Glitter    in    magical    light, 

In  an   icy   forest   primeval 

Under   the    stars    of   the    night. 


SHAKESPEARE    IN    THE    SPRING. 
(Born  April  23,  1564.) 

CHILD    of    the    young    world    in    her    gladsome 
spring, 

Thy   spirit   comes   perennially   to   greet 
Her  joyous  wakening  in  the   springtime  sweet, 
And  wander  with  her  where  the  wild  vines  cling 
To  bending  trees  above  the  murmuring 

Of  running  waters  where  the  mosses  creep. 

Nature    is    roused    from   her    enchanted    sleep 

And  speaks  once  more  through  thy  interpreting. 

O'er   banks    of   bloom    Sicilian    zephyrs   play; 

The   wavelets  break  upon   the    Danish    shore; 
In   Arden's   glades   the   happy   lovers    stray; 

And  sweet  the  heather  scents  the  English  moor. 
O   radiant   Shakespeare,   happiest  born   of  earth, 
Thou    comest   anew   with    every    springtime's    birth1 

A  CRIMSON  FEATHER  DUSTER. 

WHAT   wind   of   destiny   has   blown    thee,    little 
feathered  thing, 
Whose    spirit    from    dim    spheres    unknown    crosses 

my   journeying? 
Thy  soul  upon  its  winged  way  has  vanished  like  a 

gust; 

Thy  gorgeous  plumage  yet  doth  stay,  lightly  to  lift 
the  dust! 


THE  SHAKESPEARE  GARDEN  IN  CENTRAL 
PARK. 

"T  KNOW  a  garden  where  the  wild  thyme  grows," 
-*-  And  marigolds  are  nodding  to  the  bee — 

Where  mignonette  and  rambling  sweet-briar  rose 
Mingle  their  fragrancy. 

Azure  and  gold,  above   the  blossoms,  gleam 
The   fluttering  butterflies;   and,   spirit-white, 

One    flits   apart   where   water-lilies   dream 
In    crystal    shadowy    light. 

The  scarlet  salvia  clambers  up  the  rocks 
In    regiments,    like    red-coat    grenadiers. 

Above  the  wallflowers  and  the  lady-smocks, 
And  blue-eyed  widows'  tears. 

And  by   the   waters-  where   the   bulrush   meets 
The  emerald  moss  that  on   the   margin   lies, 

In    slender    grace    the    tall    papyrus    greets 
Its  old  Egyptian  skies. 

Sweet  whisper  zephyrs  through  the  trailing  vines, 
Sweet  is  the  music  where  the  ripples  run; 

And   over  all  in   softened   splendor   shines 
The   everlasting   sun. 


83 


AT   NIGHTFALL. 
(In    Shakespeare    Garden.) 

NIGHT  falls  within  the  Garden  of  the  Heart 
With  healing  balm  for  every  flower  that  blows, 
And  from  its   dewy  chalice   doth   impart 
New  perfume  to  the  rose. 

Deep  in  the  shadowy  dells  the  falling  brook 
Drowses  its  murmur.     Water-lilies  cool 

Sleep  on  the  placid  wave;  while  from  some  nook 
A  wood-rat  seeks  the  pool, 

Startling  the   reeds   above   a   sunken   star 
It  sets  a-dancing  in  black  depths  profound; 

And  through  the  low  grass  cometh  from  afar 
The    cricket's    chirping    sound. 

The  fragrance  of  all  blooms  is  borne  upon 
The  rise  and  falling  of  the  fitful  breeze; 

And  deep  in  golden  blossoms  of  the  sun 
Sleep  the  gold-banded  bees. 

O  magic  Night,  that  boldest  in  thy  embrace 
A  rarer  sweetness  than  is  born  of  day, 

How  gladly  doth  the  eager  earth  her  face 
Turn  from  the  sun  away! 


84 


THE  SINGING  ICE  IN  THE  PARK. 

WHERE  the  heaving  ice  floe  hovers 
Over  the  face  of  the  lake, 
And  is  swayed  and  rayed  and  rifted 

By  the  winds  that  wild  sport  make, 
There  comes,  when  the  ice  is  lifted, 
Low    music    from    every    break. 

There  comes  a  soft,  sweet  singing, 
As  of  birds  in  the  winter  wind, 

Of  happy  birds  low  singing 
In  the  bitter  and  biting  wind; 

As  the  scintillant,  crystalline  edges 
Swing   slowly,   and   shiver  and   grind. 

And  there,  in  the  wide  still  distance, 

With  never  a  soul  to  see, 
With  a   sweet  and  low   insistence 

The   ice   sings   eerily 
The  songs  of  the  birds  in  the  springtime. 

That   nestle    in   field    and    tree. 


8B 


THE  SCOURGE  OF  GOD. 

OUT  of  the   Dark  came  Attila, 
Yea,    Attila    the    Hun, 
Between  the  east  of  the  sunrise 
And  the  west  of  the  setting  sun. 

And  he  slew  where  the  Roman  legions 

Were  feasting  at  their  ease; 
And  he  slew  where  the  land  lay  sunken 

In  its  lusts  and  its  luxuries. 

For  the  earth   had   need   of  his   coming 
Who  was  the  Scourge  of  God — 

The  dread  and  terrible  coming 
Of  the  curse  accursed  of  God! 

And  after  the  hour  of  blackness 

Before   the   great   sunrise, 
A  new  world  turned  from  its  weeping 

A  shining  face  to  the  skies. 

O  earth,  once  more  in  stupor 
Of  wealth   and   ease   and   sin, 

Again   the    Scourge    comes   trampling 
To   usher  the   new   day   in! 


86 


AFTER  SUNSET  ON  THE  HUDSON. 

AGAINST  the  low  light  of  the  western  sky, 
The  Palisades  in  shadowy  rank  on  rank, 
Like  serried  troops  forever  passing  by, 
Stretch  to  the  north  along  the  river's  bank. 

Above  their  summits  storm  clouds  roll  and  run 
As  wind  blown  banners  flutter  in  the  night, 

Sable  and  grim;  through  which  the  sunken  sun 
Sends,  Parthian-like,  a  flying  shaft  of  light. 

And  high  in  ambient  air  one  gleaming  star, 
Shot  like  an  arrow  from  the  slender  bow 

Of  crescent  moon,  speeds  westward  swift  and  far, 
Unto  Amenti  where  the  dead  suns  go. 

Forevermore  the  circling  race  must  run, 
Forevermore  be  war  of  day  and  night, 

The  victory  of  the  shadow  o'er  the  sun, 
The  victory  in  the  morning  of  the  light. 

Be  strong,  O  heart;  be  comforted,  O  world; 

Ye  that  may  hold  no  one  fair  thing,  alas! 
In  God's  great  cycle  even  time  is  whirled, 

An«l  it,  like  all  things,  cometh  but  to  pass! 


87 


THE    BIRDS    OF    BRYANT    PARK. 

LIKE   still   drab   leaves   in   the    bleak   drab   trees, 
While  the  rain  falls  gray,  falls  gray, 
With    your    little    heads    tucked    under    furled    wet 

wings, 
How    passes    the    night    away? 

Have   you   thoughts   akin    to    human    thoughts? 

Do  you  wake  and  list  to   the   rain? 
Are  you  cold,  and  hungry,  and  weary,  and  faint, 

Till   the   daybreak   comes   again? 

Or  slumber  you  deep  to  the  darkness  of  earth 
With    your    spirits    in    uttermost    light — - 

O  little  Ba  birds,  of  a  Dream  that  had  birth 
In    the    old    Egyptian    night? 

The  lamps  in  the  street,  how  they  flicker  and  flare, 
By  the  wet  winds  washed  and  blown! 

O  little  drab  leaves,  are  you  dead  up  there 
Till  the  soul  comes  back  to  its  own? 


88 


AN    INCIDENT    IN    FLANDERS. 

ALL  day,  through  scream  of  shot  and  shell. 
Upon    the    Belgians    fighting   well 
The  blazing  summer  sunshine  fell. 

Slowly  the  sun  sank,  round  and  red, 
Its  bloody  light  on  blood  pools  shed 
Where  lay  the  dying  and  the  dead. 

Bravely  the  great  king  stood  at  bay, 
The   foremost   in   the   battle's   fray, 
And  thirsted  at  the  close  of  day. 

Then,  seeking  water,  his  aides  see, 
Tethered  beneath  a  distant  tree, 
A    worn    horse    drinking    eagerly; 

And  deeming  that  no  creature  durst 
Drink  while   their  monarch   was  athirst, 
They    seized    the    pail.     But — "Let    it    first 

"Finish    its   draught!     Its   suffering 
Perchance    is    greater;    and    then    bring 
The   drink  to  me!"     So   spake  the   King, 
Albert  of  Belgium. 


IN  A  VACANT  LOT. 

ALL  overgrown  with  weeds  and  grass 
The  open  lot  neglected  lies, 
And  o'er  its  wild  blooms  flit  and  pass 
Like  spirits,  white-winged  butterflies. 

In  heaps  scrap-iron  lies  here,  thrown 

From  train  sheds  and  old  railway  tracks, 

Its  rusty  red  with  grass  o'ergrown 
And  green  weeds  peeping  through  the  cracks. 

And  long  discarded  semaphores 

Eternal   guardianship   now  keep, 
Where  signal  no  more  lifts  nor  lowers, 

And  tie-vines  round  them  curl  and  creep. 

Landward  the  listless  Seabreeze  blows, 
And  sways  a  mimic  forest  made 

By  tall  weeds  soaring  rows  on  rows, 
With  leafy  vistas  in  their  shade. 

And  here,  all  through  the  Summer  day, 

Free  in  their  own  wild  habitat, 
Three  little  kittens  leap  and  play 

About  a  happy  mother  cat, 

Who  all  unaided  wins  her  food 
Wherever  she  may  seek  and  find, 

And  bravely  rears  her  little  brood 
After  the  fashion  of  her  kind. 


90 


Unhampered  they  by  hope  or  fear, 
That  comes  not  to  the  like  of  these, 

Who  may  not  see  across  the  year 
The  snow  fall  on  the  Summer's  trees! 


A  CRY  IN  THE  NIGHT. 

''T^HOU   Angel   who    "prevented    the   king's   sin, 

-1-     And  holp  the  little  ant  at  entering  in"; 
Who   knowest   no   great   in    His   domain,   nor   small, 
Seeing  that  in  His  hand  He  holdeth  all, 
Great   Angel,    heed    this    little    lost    one's   call! 

The  cry  of  the  despairing  in  the  night, 
Hither  and  thither  hurrying  in  affright; 
A   homeless   creature   left  to   starve   and   die, 
It  prays   as  men   pray  in   their  agony, 
For  all  our  prayers  are  but  a  bitter  cry. 

Thou  Angel,  flying  from  the   starry   skies 
To   gather   in   thy   hands   the   prayers   that   rise 
From  least  and  greatest,  bend  a  pitying  ear 
Unto   this   least   one   in   extremity, 
Lest  any  think  there  is  no  God  to  hear 
Nor  any  Judge  to  see! 


91 


MAMMY. 

(It  has  been  proposed  to  erect  in  Washington  a 
statue  in  memory  of  the  old  Southern  negro 
Mammy.) 

DEAR  brown  hands  that  smoothed  with  care 
The  tiny  frocks  and  rumpled  hair; 
That   gathered    scattered    toys    from   where 
They  were  left  strewn  on  floor  and  stair! 
(Siulng  low,  sweet  chariot!) 

Dear  homely   face,   so   patient  grown 

In  furrows  from  the   cares  she'd  known — 

The  cares  of  others,  not  her  own — 

While  the  long  years  had  backward  flown! 

Dear  heart,  so  loyal,  loving,  true, 
To   all   the   children   as   they   grew 
From  babyhood  to  youth,  and  knew 
Their  infant  world   from   Mammy's  view! 

Her  voice  melodious,  soft  and  low, 
Had  caught  the  crooning  ebb  and  flow 
Of  wild  sea  currents  as  they  go, 
'Neath  wind  and  sunshine — wistful,   slow. 

So   quick   to    sympathize    and    teach — 
Wisdom,  not  knowledge,   was   her  reach; 
Prompt  to  reward  or  punish  each 
Good  deed  or  error;  quaint  of  speech! 


92 


Nature's  own  guiding  rod  she  bore; 
And  taught  us  all  her  race's  lore 
Of    truth    and    legend,    and    a    store 
Of  marvelous  things  undreamed  before! 

Not  hers   to  question   things  that  be; 
Content   to    hold   her   life   in   fee, 
She    had    the    simple    faith    to    see 
The    Wonder  and   the    Mystery. 

(Swing  low,  sweet  chariot,  low,  low.') 

TO  AN  ANCIENT  SLEEPER. 

THE  river  winds  like  molten  glass 
Amid  the  fields  of  waving  grain, 
And  Indian  echoes  haunt  the  plain 
Wrapped   in   the   Indian   summer   haze; 
They  whisper  in  the  rustling  maize, 
And  speak  from  out  this  mound  again. 

Thou,  who  art  one  with  all  that  was 
And  all  that   ever   shall   remain — 

Surely  thou  hearest  through  the  grass 

Hither  and  thither  my   feet  pass, 

Seeking  the  spot  where  thou  hast  lain 
These  centuries  of  sun  and  rain! 

I   may  not  see  thy  face,  alas! 

But  free  earth  touches  grain  to  grain 
And  links  a  current  'twixt  us  twain! 


93 


MEDUSAE. 

(The   attraction   of   light   in    the    spring   brings   u-> 
from  the  sea  bottom  hosts  of  medusae  or  jellyfish.) 

CALLETH  the  Light  at  wakening  of  the  spring 
time— 

"Arise!      Arise!      My    children    of   the    sea! 
Loosen  your  bondage  to  the  ties  that  hold  you, 
Break  from  the  deep — arise,  and  come  to  me!" 

They  come  in  hosts,  the  sea's  bright-eyed  medusae. 

Shy  and  young  souled,  by  pulsing  movements  sped, 
Up  from  long  arms  and  tentacles  that  hold  them 

Among  strange  shapes  upon  the  ocean's  bed. 

High  o'er  the  surface  of  the  air's  deep  ocean, 

The    Voice    calls    to    us:    "Ye    who    blindly    seek 

Life  which  is  light — come  upward,   O  my  children! 
Leave  the  earth  bottom,  where   the  highest  peak 

"Pierces    in    vain    the    immeasurable    waters, 
And  never  island  from  the  wave  breaks  forth ; 

Dim  shapes  ye  move  among,  my  sons  and  daughters, 
Come  up  to  me  and  know  the  true   life's  worth. 

"Ye  who  have  eyes,  the  time  has  come  for  seeing! 

Ye  who  have  ears,  the  time  has  come  to  hear! 
Come  from  blind  deeps  and  know  the  full  of  being, 

The  rounded  orb,  the  music  of  the  sphere!" 


94 


Up  from  the  deeps,  advancing  and  receding 
By  heart's  diastole  and  systole — 

The  Light  that  calls  our  seeking  instinct  leading- 
Do  we  go  forth,  we  Children  of  the  Sea! 


WOODLAWN. 

A   FAIR,  white   city,   o'er  whose   quiet   streets 
Life  everlasting  broods!     No  jarring  sound 
Mars   its    sweet    restfulness    and    long   repose. 
The    Summer    sun    lies    softly    on    its    ways, 
Where  flit  white  butterflies  from  bloom  to  bloom, 
And  soft  cicadas  chant  amid  the  trees. 

There  is  no  evil  there,  nor  sin,  nor  death; 
But  lights  and   shadows  of   His   perfect  peace 
Who  stoops  and  lays  His  benediction  on 
The    congregation    gathered   in    His    sight. 

Then  falls  the  dew  of  evening  on  the  grass, 
With  odor  of  sweet  flowers;  and  all  night  long 
The  winds  of  Woodlawn  whisper  'neath  the  stars 
The  mysteries  of  the  coming  of  the  Dawn. 


"0 


FROM  THE  TALMUD. 

NLY   the    grave   dust   covering   it   at   last 
Man's  eye  can  satisfy!"     So  saith  the  Word. 


When  Alexander,  conqueror  of  the  earth, 
Approached  the  gates  of  Paradise  and  knocked, 
The    Guardian   Angel,   with   uplifted   brows 
And    glance    unrecognizing,    questioned    him,. 

''Who  knocks?"     To  which  the  king  responded  high, 

"I,    Alexander,    chiefest    of    the    world!" 
Whereat  the  Angel  slowly  smiled  and  said, 

"We   know  him  not.     This  portal   is  the   Lord's; 
Only    the    righteous    enter    here.     Depart!" 
Then  Alexander  all  abashed,  replied: 

'Give  me,   I  pray,  a  token   showing  men 
That   I   have  reached  the  gates  of  Paradise, 
Though  may  not  enter!"     So  the  Angel  gave 
A  tiny  bone,  the  fragment  of  a  skull. 
Then  Alexander  went  back  whence  he  came 
And  showed  it  to  the  wise  men  of  his  realm, 
Who,  weighing  it,  discovered  all  the  gold 
And  silver  heaped  upon  the  other  scale, 
His  costly  jewels,  ay,   his  diadem 
That  Alexander  'placed  were  but  as  air 
To  the  small  fragment  of  a  human  skull. 
This  bone  about  the  eye!     Thereat  a  sage 
Esteemed  the  wisest  gathered  at  the  throne. 


96 


Stooped   to  the  earth  and   laid  a  grain  of  sand 
Upon   the  bone;  and  lo,  the   scale  flew  up! 

'Only  the  grave  dust  covering  it  at  last 
Man's  eye  can  satisfy!"     So  saith  the  Word. 


FAITH. 

THE  night  is  dark  and  wild! 
O  soul  of  my  little  child, 
My  little  baby  child, 

Stay — stay! 

Thou  little  helpless  one, 
Out  in  the  great  unknown 
How  canst  thou   find  alone 
The   way? 

But  the  voice  of  the  little  soul, 
The   sweet  voiced  little  soul, 
Back  through  the  silence  stole 

To  say, 

"O    mother   of   mine,   alone 
I  came  from  the  great  unknown; 
Came  I  not  unto  mine  own 

Straightway?" 


97 


THE  WATCHER  AT  THE  GATES. 

"AT AY,"   said   the   Angel,   "Thou   art  all   unfit 
•*•  ^1    To  enter  here,  who  lovedst  not  thy  race 
While  yet  on  earth;  how  canst  thou  then  expect 
To  share  their  joys  in  Paradise,  and  kneel 
With    them,   as   worshipper   before    the    Throne? 
The  bowers  of  Eden  bloom  for  all  alike 
Who  enter  in;  wouldst  thou  a  special  place 
To   draw   thyself  apart   and   dwell   alone  ? 
Here  music  is  the  music  of  all  tongues 
In    harmony,    and    every    heart    akin! 
What  wouldst  thou  in  thy  loneliness  and  pride?" 

Thereat  the   Soul  made  answer,   speaking  low 
In   humbleness:   "Dread   Lord   of  Paradise! 
I   was   a   stranger   to   thy   flocks   and    herds, 
I   was   a   wild   thing  tamed   not   to    their   ways, 
Nor  grown  unto  their  liking;  so  I  kept 
My   soul   apart,   and   made   myself  a  path, 
And  lived  my  life  as  creatures  of  the  wood, 
None    harming,    passing    onward,    but    alone; 
Freed  from  the  bitterness  of  hateful   strife 
Through   mingling  with  Thy   creatures   not  akin. 

"I  seek  not  joys  within  the  City  Gates 
Celestial,  where  the  alien  saints  abide; 
But  grant,  I  pray  Thee,  some  green  slope  low  down 


Upon   the   outer   hills  of   Paradise, 

Before   the   massive  portals,  where   I   may 

Watch  for  the  little  creatures  of  the  earth 

Up   drifting  from  the   mists;   and   ope    for   them 

A  crevice  in  the  portals  else  unswung, 

And  let  them  in  to  rest  beneath  the  trees 

And   by   still   waters   in   the   pastures   green. 

"So  may  I  yet  be  minister  to  them — 

The  little  waifs  and  stray  souls  of  the  earth, 

The   piteous   younger   brethren   of  the   fold!" 


AT   THE   WINTER  SOLSTICE. 

FROM    whirling    strife    at   center   there    is   peace, 
Where  dawns  with  thee  first  life,  O  Mother  Sea! 
The   far-spread   system   of   our   changing  worlds 
Wheels   round   Alcyone. 

A   moment's   pause    there   lingers   at   the   goal 
The  age-worn  sun  in  ashes  of  desire; 

Then   round  again  the  flying  seasons   roll 
With  a  diviner  fire. 

Serene  the  tide  at  meeting  of  the  ways 

Where  new  life  pauses  for  the  old  to  cease; 

And  there,  within  the  happy  halcyon  days, 
Was  born  the  Prince  of  Peace! 


ON  THE  HOUSETOP. 

SERENE  at   sunset   on   the   roof 
I    watch    the    daylight   passing   by; 
The  cares  of  earth  have  sunk  abashed 
Beneath   the   perfect   sky. 

All  sounds  have  mingled  into  one 
•     Deep    rhythmic    murmur,    far,    subdued, 
As  if  the  city's  pulsing  heart 
Beat  in   the   solitude. 

Beyond  the  level  roofs  a  sail 
Creeps  slowly  over  sunset  seas; 

A  mist  is  on  the  evening  hills, 
And  night  amid  the  trees. 

Far  overhead  a   homing  bird 

Flies   dark  against   the   changing  sky, 
Now  lost  in   cloud,   now  plunged  in   fire 

Where  lakes  of  sunlight  lie. 

Half   shrouded   in   the   harbor   mists 

Earth  lights  come   twinkling  into  view; 

As    one    by    one    majestic    stars 
The  fields  of  heaven  strew. 


100 


A  PEARL  OF  THE   FAITH. 

After  a  conflagration  in  which  three  firemen  lost 
their  lives  three  goldfish  were  found  unharmed  in 
the  ruins. 

"Praise  Him,  Al-Mutahali!  whose  decree 
Is  wiser  than  the  wit  of  man  can  see!" 

HE  is  the   Reckoner,  and  He  counteth  all 
His  creatures,  be  they  great  or  be  they  small; 
He   balanceth   and   weigheth,   counting  all. 

When,  in  that  seething  pit,  He,  ruling  Death, 
Let  three  men  perish  in  its  flaming  breath — 
Three  valiant  men — He,  ruling  Life  and  Death, 

Kept  all  unharmed  beneath  the  cindered  mass, 

Three  tiny  goldfish  in  a  globe  of  glass, 

That  lived  and  frolicked  'neath  the  cindered  mass. 

Lo!   He   doth   see,  Almighty  and  All-wise, 
That  which  is  hidden  from  our  wondering  eyes — 
Why  these  should  live,  those  perish — O  All-wise! 


101 


EVENING  AT  CAMP  MILLS. 

THEN,  when  the  day  was  ended,  I  came  home, 
Leaving    the    pageant    to    the    sunset    faded, 
And    camp    fires    kindling    in    the    growing    dusk. 
The  pungent  wood   smoke  blew  across  the   field, 
And  curling  gray  wreaths  veiled  the  evening  star, 
High   sentinel — lone  in   the  amber  sky. 

Lingering,   I   heard   a   far   off  bugle   call 
And   sound  of  music  wafted   on   the  breeze, 
And  cheerful  voices  by  the  clustered  tents 
Where    soldiers    spoke   and   jested    comradewise, 
Partaking  of  the   fragrant  evening  meal. 

In  rows   on   rows   the   canvas   dwellings   lay 

Beneath   the  vaster   canopy   of   sky, 
Where    down    long   lanes    the    far   tents    fade    away, 

Lost   in   the   hovering  darkness   utterly. 
Brood  of  the  Eagle!     Summoned  loud  and  clear, 
From  every  eyrie  are  ye  gathered  here 
On  this  far  island  by  the  eastern  shore; 
From  the   sad  South  I  shall  behold  no  more 
In  all  the  changing  glory  of  the  year; 
And   from  the  marvelous  city  lying  near; 

And  from  the  West,  beyond  whose  mountain  chains 
In  majesty  the  great  Pacific  reigns, 


102 


Holding    for    man    unborn    its    priceless    boori, 
With   golden   gates   flung  to  the   sunset  wide! 
And  from  the  Great  Lakes  with  their  ocean  tide 

Rising  and   falling  'neath   the   swinging  moon, 
Whose  changeless  changes  evermore  abide. 

A  night  ye  rest,  O  children  of  the  Sun, 

Beneath  the   shadow  of  His  brooding  wings! 

And  with   the   new   light  of  the    day   begun 
Ye   shall   go   forth   as   conquerors  and  kings — 

Yea,  as  the  sons  of  God,  go  forth  to  war! 

And  would  to  Him  that  I  were  where  ye  are! 


OLD   YOUTH. 

YOUTH,  that  was  first  of  all, 
Oldest  it  is  of  all, 
Back  of  the  elements,  winds  and  the  tides. 

Age,  that  is  last  of  all, 
Youngest  it  is  of  all, 
Younger  and  younger  the  longer  it  bides. 


103 


HORSES. 

IN  the  gray  shades  where  horses'  spirits  go 
They  spoke  together  after  mortal  woe. 
Said  one:  "I  came  from  where  a  boundless  plain 
Swept  the  horizon,  by  wild  armies  slain; 
Shot  full  of  arrows,  as  the  red  sun  fell 
My  last  shriek  mingled  with  the  savage  yell." 

Another  spoke:  "I  came  from  tossing  seas 
Where,  herded  in  dense  masses,  knees  to  knees, 
A  troop  ship  bore  us  to  a  mighty  war. 
Over  wide  waters,  speeding  'fast  and   far, 
Doom  came   to  us.     Upon   the   ocean's   floor 
Amid  old  wrecks  our  bones  lie  evermore." 

And  then  a  quiet  voice,  subdued  and  sad, 
Spoke  slowly:  "All  the  wasted  strength  I  had 
Was  spent  in  the  long  service  of  the  street. 
Day  after  day   I   lifted  weary   feet, 
Slipping  and  falling;  on  an  icy  dawn 
I  left  at  last  the  wagon  I  had  drawn." 


104 


THE   UNEXPECTED. 

ONE  mocked  at   death,   for  being  strong  of  limb 
And    fearless,    death    no    terrors    had  -for    him: 
"From  out  my  course  I  shall  not  move  a  jot, 
Let  him  approach  at  will;  I  fear  him  not!" 

Yet,  when  the  conqueror  whom  he  thought  to  meet 
As  man   meets  man,  erect  upon  his  feet, 
Came   creeping   in    long   twilight   shadows,   he 
Fell  on  his  knees  and  writhed  in  agony. 

Another,   not    self-confident    but    frail, 

Feared   death    from   his   youth    upward;    e'en    would 

quail 

At   every   shadow   which   upon    his   path 
Seemed   pointing  toward   him    in   its   sombre   wrath. 

Yet,  when   death   came,  not  wrapped  in  lengthened 

gloom 

As  all  life  long  this  man  expected  doom, 
But   sudden   in   the   sunlight,   not   a   trace 
Of  fear  remained;   he   met  him   face   to   face. 


105 


THE  LAST  SEAL. 

YOU    have    covered    the    sea    with    your    navies; 
You  have  mined  the  solid  earth; 
You  have  used  the  fire  for  your  desire 
And  given  great  engines  birth. 

But  for  ages   the   air   has  tempted — 

Has  mocked  and  laughed  to  scorn; 
Since  the  old  scheme  of  Da  Vinci's  dream, 

And  the  hopes  of  the  young  world's  dawn. 

Now  the  trumpet   sounds  the  breaking 

Of  another  seal,  O  man! 

For    your    hands    have    wrought    the    thing    you've 
sought 

Since  first  the  world  began. 

You  have  knocked — and  to  you  'tis  open; 

You  have  sought  and  it  is  found; 
You  have  burst  all  ties  in  your  will  to  rise, 

O   scorner  of  the   ground! 

And  the  earth  shall  signal  greeting, 

To  the   commerce   of  the   sky — 
As  with  flags  unfurled  above  the  world 

The  ships  of  air  shall  fly. 


106 


THE  ARCHETYPE. 

IN  desert  places  and  in  fields  and  woods, 
Chameleons  take   the   hues  of  rocks  and   trees; 
And  sponges  to  their  moorings  shape  themselves 
In  the  slow  swinging  of  the  languid  seas. 

The  waves  assume  the  colors  of  the  sky, 
Rosy  at  dawning  and  at  close  of  day; 

Ethereal  blue  beneath  the  arch  of  noon; 

Black  with   the   midnight;   with   the   storm   cloud, 
gray. 

And    standing    in    the    Presence    on    the    mount, 
Upon  whose  peak  the  flaming  angels  trod, 

Lo!   gazing  on   the   Light  unspeakable, 

The   prophet's   face   gave    glory   back  to   God! 

So,  growing  like  to  what  we  look  upon, 
Let  us   seek  beauty  wheresoe'er  it  lies; 

And  let  our  casements  to  the  hills  be  flung 
And  to  the  wide  seas  and  unfathomed  skies; 

That,  looking  out,   our  souls  become  more  vast; 

And,  looking  up,  our  spirits  grow  more  rare; 
And  with  our  minds  intent  forever  on 

The   fair  in   nature   we   grow  also   fair. 


107 


AT    A    MENAGERIE. 

HELD   as   prisoners  in  a   cage 
Evermore  to  grieve  or  rage, 
See  where  furled  and  folded  lie 
Great  wings  fitted  for  the  sky; 
And  where  wild  sweet  forest  songs  are 
Muted  in  captivity! 

In  a  far-off  corner  shrinks, 

Scornful,   proud,   a   captive   lynx; 

A   wild   wood   creature   brought   to   bay, 

Keeping  all  the  space  he  may, 

In   his  cage's  little   distance, 

From  our  curious  gaze  away. 

A  lone  dog  from  the  Cape  replies 

To   a   wild   hyena's   cries; 

And   in   narrow   circle   bound, 

A  honey  bear  walks  round  and  round, 

Pacing  out  the  weary  moments 

With  nose  pointed  to  the  ground. 


108 


FROM  THE  DARK. 

LORD  of  this  world  since  wind  and  tide 
And  changing  aeons  came  to  be, 
Waft  from  the  skies  the  clouds  that  hide 
The  stricken  earth  from  Thee! 

From    where    Thou    sittest,    throned    in    Day, 
Beyond   these   nights   of  blood  and   pain, 

Thou  seest  we   seek  Thy   perfect  way 
And   that   we   seek   in   vain. 

Thou   seest  the   nations  bloom,   and   fall 
Before  the  scythe  like  Summer  grass. 

The  strength  of  men   made  naught,  and  all 
The    piteous   pageant   pass. 

Behold,   the   children   of  the   Sun 
Are   tempted    with    ignoble    ease, 

And   those   Thou   settest   Thy   seal   upon 
Still  ravage  earth  and  seas! 

We   tread   so   blindedly  the   way, 

Lord  of  the  reaper  and  the  grain — 

Oh,    flash    through    whirling   clouds    some    ray 
To  make   the   long  road   plain! 


109 


GUNDA'S    PRAYER. 

(For  two  years,  Gunda,  the  elephant  in  the  Bronx 
Zoological  Park,  was  chained  to  the  concrete 
floor  by  two  legs,  unable  to  move  more  than  a  couple 
of  feet  from  the  one  spot.) 

'T^HE  time  is  long,  Lord   God,  the  time  is  long! 
-»-    From  the   gray   dawn   to  twilight  evensong, 
From  evensong  until  the  break  of  day, 
Year   after   year,    lo,    captive    kept    alway, 
I  may  not  move  but  as  Thy  great  tides  sway! 

The    time    is    long,    Lord    God,    the    time    is    long! 
And    I    would    roam    my    trackless    wastes    among; 
The   tempests   call,   the    sunshine    beckons   me, 
The    deep   pools   in    the   jungle   lands    I    see, 
And   I  am  restless,  longing  to  be  free. 

The    time    is    long,    Lord    God,    the    time    is    long! 
That   I   am  punished   who   have   done   no   wrong; 
Chained   in   slow   torture   and   dull   agony 
For  idler's  gaze,  or  child  of  man  to  see, 
Whom    Thou    hast    given    dominion    over    me! 

The    time    is    long,    Lord    God,    the    time    is    long! 
For  death  releases  weaklings,  not  the   strong; 
And   I,  thus  helpless  in   captivity, 
Was  strong  and  swift  and  great  as  creatures  be, 
And  living  thus,  gave  glory  unto  Thee. 


110 


The    time    is    long,    Lord    God,    the    time    is    long! 
Hear  Thou  my  prayer,   O   Maker,  who  art  strong 
And  mayst  deliver  in   extremity! 
I   pray  as  all  Thy   creatures   pray  to   Thee — 
Hark  Thou  my  prayer,  Lord  God,  and  set  me  free! 


A 


A   WEST   INDIAN   SABBATH. 

CROSS    the    blue    sky    soft    white    clouds    are 
sailing, 

Below  me  spreads  the  iridescent  sea; 
And  o'er  the  cliff  sweet  blow  the  zephyrs,  wafting 

Cathedral   melody. 
So   sweetly   soft  upon   the   green   earth    falleth 

The  Sabbath  stillness  of  God's  perfect  rest, 
As  though   His  spirit  in  the  silence   brooded 

With  wings  upon  its  breast! 
Through  arch  beyond  arch  of  azure  vaulted  heavens 

Rising  in  sunshine  over  earth  and  sea, 
"Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled,"  comes  the   mes 
sage 

His  angel  bears  to  me. 
"Lo,   in   my    Father's    house   are    many    mansions, 

And  where  I  am  there  may  ye  be  also!" 
O   we   of   little   faith,   hath    He   not   shown    us 

The  Way  that  we  must  go? 
Along  the  bank  the  purple  sage  is  blooming, 

The   scarlet  salvia  flashes  from  the  grass, 
And  manna  from  the  bread-fruit  tree  is  falling 

Around  me  as  I  pass. 

in 


AT   THE  TURN   OF   THE   YEAR. 

"T^ATHER,    mine    hour    is    come!      The    twelfth 

J-      stroke    falls, 

I    faint  before  Thy  Throne  amid  the   snows! 
Here  at  Thy  feet  the  burden  I  lay  down — 
A   heart,   all   deep   despair   and   bitterness, 
For  deeds  undone  that  I  was  given  to  do, 
And  many  a  battle  lost  upon  the  way. 
My   strength   diminished   to   this    feeble    end, 
Weary  and  old  I  die;  my  youth's  fair  dreams 
Forever  vanished  in  this  cold,  gray  mist; 
The   firs   and   hemlocks,   black  above   the   snows, 
Like  shades  of  passions  spent,  environ  me; 
Sorrow  alone  remains,  and  vain  regret, 
Remembering  the  promise   of  my   spring!" 

Down    from    His    Rings    of   ever-circling    Light, 

Stooped  pityingly  the   Lord  of  Life  and   Time, 

And  laid  His  touch   upon   the   dying  Year. 

"Beloved,    rise!     I    give    to    thee    again 

Thy  radiant  youth,  more  glorious  than  of  old; 

Sweeter  and  wiser,  stronger  with  each   death, 

For  the  endeavor  and  the  burdens  borne 

From  cycle  unto  cycle!     Go,  once  more, 

And  love  and  strive  and   conquer!     Thou  art   Mine, 

And    Mine   the    Event,   and    I   will   not    forsake. 

Lo!  in  the   East  thy  star   shines!     It  is   Morn!" 


112 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-42m-8,'49(B5573)444 


THE  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


A     000917257 


